


The Tale of Two Dragons

by NightCrows



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Blackwatch, Depression, Dragons, Flashbacks, Gen, Good Friends (Genji and Mercy), Graphic Description, Hallucinations, Hanamura, Hurt No Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, Interrogation, Kidnapping, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Overwatch - Freeform, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Pre-Fall of Overwatch, Probably feels, Scars, Shimada Clan, Swiss Base, Torture, Two Sides of a Story, Violence, Watchpoint: Gibraltar, life story, really wanted more lore, so I made more, young shimadas
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-06
Updated: 2018-02-11
Packaged: 2018-10-28 15:09:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 37,964
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10833786
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NightCrows/pseuds/NightCrows
Summary: We start with, well... the beginning. Hanzo Shimada has been forced to kill his brother after Genji denies the Clan, and although all goes as planned, no one's happy. Hanzo and Genji alike face difficulties recuperating both mentally and physically.This story will take you through their fight, and their lives afterwards.





	1. It Can Only Go Uphill From Here

**Author's Note:**

> First of all:  
> I'm not very acquainted with the Japanese culture, so I apologize if there are mistakes in this story considering that.
> 
> Second:  
> I rewrote the fight scene at least 3 times and I'm still not satisfied with it, but I hope you, the reader, are. The reason I did not write more versions was because I was really excited to get this out there. I have a friend who's been hitting the Overwatch feels quite a lot recently, and they don't know I wrote this haha, I'd love to see their reaction. 
> 
> Anyways, on with the show. I don't want you to get the feeling that this is a happy story in any way.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He glared at Hanzo for just a moment, then the younger brother’s face fell. Hanzo was tired. His face and eyes depressed, lines of fury outlining the features further, and a layer of hopelessness staining the picture.  
> Lost hope for what could’ve been a happy ending?  
> Genji got no further in his thoughts. Hanzo had grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and he found himself thrown to the other end of the shrine. The impact caused him to release what little air was still in his lungs, and left him breathless. Propping himself up on his arms, he found Hanzo was still standing on the other side, but the katana was gone. In its place was a bow, an arrow already drawn back.
> 
> The string barely gave a whisper as Hanzo’s fingers let go. There was a thud, Genji screamed.

  
Before him stood the clan's elders and his uncle, Hayato. Only two days ago his father, the leader of the notorious Shimada Clan, Shimada Sojiro, had perished from an unknown sickness. Most people believed he had been poisoned long ago, and been slowly dying since that day, but no one knew for sure. Traces of an unknown substance were found in the body, but disappeared shortly after discovered. Now, as the eldest son, Hanzo was to become the new leader. He formally bowed before his elders.  
"Masters," he greeted.  
They watched him with indifferent faces, but gave a short bow as well.  
"You realize why you are here, Hanzo?" Akira asked. He was probably the youngest of the council, but only by a few years. The elder was dressed in a more modern fashion, a square-shouldered suit that warned that the man may be old, but by no means frail.  
  
Hanzo’s eyes moved from staring into space to looking at the speaker straight in the eyes, he spoke with absolute confidence. "Yes. Now that my father has passed it is my duty to take his place in the ranks of this clan. I’m to take on the responsibility I’ve been training for since I was a boy."  
  
The five men above him exchanged unsure glances, and a few low murmurs were exchanged among them. Hanzo gazed at each of them in turn, confused. Surely there wasn't a catch to this? He’d been prepared for this, he’d had hands-on training, been trusted with his own assassinations, stolen goods, and trained vigorously all while he had been going to school as well. So, why…?  
  
"What you say is true. However, your brother, Genji, has left us with a difficult choice," Another elder spoke with a heavy sigh, that was Hirosama. Hanzo's common face of indifference dropped, replaced by worry. He would agree any other day that Genji needed to be worked on behavior wise, after all, the things he did weren't very... delightful for everyone else to hear about. He would never take anything seriously--except for training--and became very irresponsible, taking to the city when they should be resting after a hard day’s work. However, the tone that the elders were speaking in, it didn't sound like they were asking him to help his brother.  
  
"Hanzo," the eldest spoke with a sincere voice, Masato. "You're brother is talented and would be a great asset in helping the clan as a whole, but the nonsense he commits must be put to a stop for once. So we leave you with two choices, you will straighten him out, or you will kill him."  
  
Hanzo unwillingly flinched, and his eyes widened as he tried to search the man's face for some sort of sign that this was a joke. As he took a reflective step back, Masato rose his hand as to stop the young man from leaving. His head was solemnly bowed.  
  
"We realize this may come as a surprise to you, but the Shimada Clan never leaves loose ends. It has been for several years that we have debated over what we shall do with Genji, but your father always sought to protect him from the rest of the clan's wrath. Surely, Hanzo, you realize that his behavior is unacceptable,” this time his uncle spoke.  
  
There was only a hint of sadness in their faces as Hanzo stared in disbelief. But they were right, the Shimada Clan had never left open ends, the weakest wolf drags down the whole pack. He straightened his stance and put the mask of indifference back on his face with an internal sigh.  
  
"Yes, Masters," he bowed and turned to leave. They would most likely discuss his rise into power after he had dealt with this task.  
As soon as he exited his uncle called to him. "It must be done by tonight, no exceptions."  
  
The young man turned his head and nodded, unsure if his uncle could even see him anymore. Something mentally slapped him in the back of the head. It took a moment, but half way across the courtyard, Hanzo realized his uncle might have been the only one that had given no real sign of sympathy. The face he recalled was a clean slate  as most have been taught to use, but for a split second, there must’ve been greed in his eyes. A greed he didn’t particularly like. He took a moment to glare at the grass for not noticing this simple act before.  
  
Hanzo made his way to sit on a bench, watching the swaying trees below and the tall roofs of Hanamura’s buildings behind the wall. Today was Sunday, commonly a day to mourn or rest in most cultures, and that’s exactly what everyone did. Some of the men who worked here went home to visit families for the whole day while others stayed and continued any work. For his brother, however, today was no different. Genji was probably out in the town, and being the man he is, he was having sex with whichever woman he could sway or sitting on his lazy ass with his eyes glued on the screen of an arcade game. He gave a frustrated grunt, Genji was enthralled by those things, making a new life outside the clan with his charming personality. The elders were right, their father had been the only thing protecting Genji from an inevitable doom. Was there even a chance of him giving up his ways now? His younger brother would only complain that it had taken him so long to create his outside life, and that he, Hanzo, should loosen up more and come around for another drink.  
  
Hanzo’s head shot up at the sound of footsteps to find that before him was one of his former teachers.  
"You have that dramatic look again," he commented, causing Hanzo to raise an eyebrow.  
  
"Come on, I know they've asked you to take on the responsibility of becoming master of the Shimada Clan, just about everyone knows. But unlike the others, I'm guessing there’s more, something about Genji."  
  
Hanzo sighed and tucked his hair behind an ear so he could see his teacher in his peripheral vision, unwilling to look him in the eye. The older man sat next to him on the bench, folding his hands in his lap. For a moment he stared out at the scene as well, but then he noticed his former pupil’s hunched back.  
  
"Come on, sit straight," he said, sharply tapping on the young man's back. Hanzo complied, stretching a bit, and feeling the need to speak his mind. After all, this was a rather large load, and his teachers were some of the only people he felt he could speak comfortably with, along with Genji, of course.  


"I don't want to sound ungrateful for my brother, but he's so difficult. Everyday he leaves, frolicking among women and sometimes even leaving to the city for a few days at a time. The elders have given me an impossible task. I'm either to convince my brother to become my right-hand and take on a similar responsibility, or..." Hanzo trailed off and bowed his head again, shoulders slumping.  
  
"Kill him," his teacher finished with a small sigh and an apologetic smile. "Yes, it has been talked over for years. It greatly pains me to think that Genji should go. He's a very talented man, training him was a great joy of mine, and I still enjoy sparring with him. I know it will be harder for you to rid of him. After all, you carry a great burden now, and Genji will decide whether you continue to carry it or not."  
  
The words felt blunt and uncaring, and Hanzo saw himself as the only one that truly loved his brother. His teacher placed a comforting hand on his back.  
"Perhaps we should have some tea," he said after a thoughtful moment. He stood up and began walking, expecting the younger to follow.

"Of course," Hanzo stood up as well and did as he was expected. Hopelessness sunk like rock in his stomach as he walked. Everyone spoke as though they thought--no, _knew_ \--that he would have to kill his brother.

A cool wind passed by and caused several leaves to float by. Fall was here, the 26th day of September.  
Ironic. This was the season of bounty, yet it already reeked of blood.  
  
For two hours they relaxed and talked over their drinks in a dimly lit sitting room. Their topic rarely reached any mention of today's agenda, and Hanzo silently gave thanks to his old teacher.  
Above them, the old analog clock rhythmically ticked as a comfortable silence settled between them.  
Only now did Hanzo calmly glance at it, and when he did, it startled him. Six in the evening would probably be the deadline for him to complete his task. The clock showed that his time had shortened to two hours.  
"I'm so sorry, but I really must go," he gave an apologetic smile and rose, setting his cup down in front of him. "Genji is probably back by now, and I need to go… complete my task.”  
  
"You are free to go. There’s no stopping a Shimada from completing his job," his mentor rose as well and called for an omnic to clean after them.

  
There was a secluded street of buildings only accessible from Shimada Castle, in a rather good condition of course. They housed the Shimadas, of course, and the elders, and most other buildings would be used as offices or storage areas. Entering the area, he noticed his brother disappear through the door of their shared house. His stomach dropped immediately, and he silently followed, eventually making his way over to his own room.  
Stepping inside the innocent place, he took a deep breath. For a brief moment the plain wood paneled walls and the sparsely furnished room brought his sense of calm back. He was standing in the middle of a thin and faded old rug, one that his birth mother had gifted to him. It told a story, but rather than the story of two dragons their father had always told with a certain fondness, it was one of a wolf and a dog. The moral had been imprinted in his head, “Better starve free than be a fat slave.” It was a story he truly took to heart and commonly made metaphors with.  
Hanzo glanced in the mirror and ended up staring at his own face for a while, distracting himself by spacing out. Thoughts slid in and out of his mind, some good, some bad, some simply thinking about the ingredients to a dish. An impatient, faint blue glow emitted from his left arm, bringing with it a slight burning sensation, jarring Hanzo out of the trance.  
_Shush, this is stressful, I’m trying to avoid this for as long as possible,_ he thought, referring to the spiritual dragons that resided within him. With a little sigh he unequipped the weaponry he carried, deciding that a small wash might make him feel better, and lifted off his shirt. Upon entering the included washroom, he began to wash his face, cupping the running water in his hands and tossing it on his face, not bothering to hold his hair back and facing the consequence of it sticking to his cheeks.  
He continued to wash his torso as a way of distracting his mind--not for the first time today--of any other thoughts. But the distraction only lasted so long as he dried himself off and redressed.

His reluctant eyes caught the glint of metal, and his fingers lingered for a moment over his weapons, mainly the katana. Hanzo hesitated to pick up the piece of graceful destruction that leaned against his dresser. He knew that his brother would refuse to stop his daily schemes, and he realized at the back of his mind he'd always known this day would come. There was no possibility, and there really never was, that they could avoid Genji's early death, even as much as he tried to convince himself otherwise. He let out a long sigh.

This was it.  
Reaching down he equipped his common gear, but when it came to donning his katana, the blade felt heavier. The weapon carried a burden now, a task nearly impossible to complete.  
He left the room and walked back into the castle grounds, finally coming to stand in front of the large shrine. They were often taught martial arts here, despite it not being a dojo, and they still took occasional lessons and practice, coming here every so often. Hanzo strode into the empty building and stood in the middle, staring up at the picture painted above. He reached for his phone and went to call his brother, solemnly watching. For a few moments he was forced to listen to the phone ring. At last, Genji picked up.  
  
“Hey, Hanzo.” his brother said, the phone was on speaker and Hanzo could hear the rustling of clothes as his brother struggled to dress and communicate at the same time.

“Hello. Could you meet me in the temple, Genji?”  
“Yeah, sure. Why?”  
“I’ll explain when you’re here.”  
Hanzo hung up before Genji could give a confused ’huh?’  
  
While he further waited, Hanzo tried to quiet down his quickening heart. It pounded in his ears, but several deep breaths did the trick. Still tense, but calmer, he had a moment to wonder why is father protected Genji and his behavior. Their father was never the man to make mistakes, so why in the world would he let his younger son misbehave if not for a good reason?  
  
A few moments later, Genji appeared in the temple. He yawned despite the fact that it was past noon, and it appeared that he had just taken a shower. He was missing a sheath.  
"Afternoon, brother," Genji greeted.  
"Hello, Genji," was the short response he gave. His heart fluttered nervously.  
"There is... Something we must talk about, Genji."  
  
"Yeah, uh, I figured that out from the call. What is it?" There was a slight slur in his voice, and it sounded like his brother was trying to mask it.  
With a deep breath Hanzo rose and walked stoic towards his brother, looking him straight in the eye."You must quit."  
  
Genji snickered. "Hah, what?"  
  
"Genji, please. Follow our father's legacy with me, quit all your nonsense. No more women, no more hangovers," A small anger began to grow in his chest. "Stop living with all your short term happiness and distractions, and get a life! Our father sacrificed so much for you, the least you could do is help me and participate in the clan’s activities."  
  
Genji stared at his brother in disbelief, Hanzo would scold him from time to time, but never did he actually get so angry to the point of near shouting. The younger brother's eyes glanced at the sword attached to his and his brother's waist. It may have been common for the Shimadas to carry weapons around, but Hanzo never carried any weapon half drawn. His intoxicated mind tried to comprehend what that meant, but it kept faltering when he tried to come to a conclusion. Instead, he stupidly tried to defend his actions, getting mad himself.

“You want _me_ to get a life? Look at _you_ , Hanzo. You stay cooped up in the castle, training with our teachers and doing homework all day! We’re not even in school anymore,” he shouted. “I’m going out there and actually _living_ , I have tons of friends, and they’re not here because of fear unlike all that you know, I even have a part time job. You can't even find yourself a girlfriend!”

  
"This isn't a joke, Genji, you and I are supposed to continue this empire together. Our honor is bound, not to mention the gifts we have been given," Hanzo spat back, the words his brother had said actually made him feel guilt. In a way, he was right, and the elder felt bad about himself, but at this point the words only created more fuel for his anger to burn. "And maybe I would get the kind of _life_ you think of, if you pulled your own weight! I’m the one picking up after you, I’m the one doing all the work, I’m the one who is _supposed to take responsibility of an entire empire and you never lifted a finger to help me!_ ”

  
The outburst startled the younger, and Genji stared at Hanzo for a long moment, his slight drunkenness was gone, and he seemed completely sober. He opened his mouth to say something, but his voice refused to work.

Genji let out a pathetic squeak.

 

“Are you _finally_ listening to me?" Hanzo shouted at his brother's stupidly surprised face, his breaking point reached. "Father is dead, so is our mother--as if she could do something--and no one is here to protect your juvenile actions! I'm not going to help you continue this nonsense, I'm trying to help you stop. If you won't join me and regain our honor, then..."  
His voice faltered slightly and Hanzo's hand tightened on the hilt of a half drawn blade.  
  
The room was silent, the only sound was the wind gently pushing leaves wherever it pleased, bringing a certain chill that neither of the brothers liked. There was not a person in sight, everyone who had been here had moved away. An angry Shimada was not one to be trifled with.  
  
For a while no one spoke a word, it was just a simple standoff between the two, both waiting for the other to speak. Until Hanzo's anger reached out again, a rare thing that happened to the well composed man.  
  
“Are you going to answer me, idiot?” Hanzo spat.

Genji still stood dumbfounded, staring at his brother and unsure of what to do. Hanzo decided to take action, anger coursing through his veins, and furrowing hi brow, his katana leapt out of its sheath and swiped at his brother’s torso. The rage that had suddenly engulfed him only cared for some type of revenge, and the blade tore through Genji’s skin, a red ribbon trailing in its wake.

 

The latter stumbled back and tripped to his knees with a yelp, pressing his hand against the large cut. It wasn’t deep, but not shallow enough to be considered light, and his hand was quickly painted in blood. Genji took a moment,  hunching over himself and trying to get over the burning pain. There was a dull thud in front of him causing him to flinch. He glanced up to find an annoyed Hanzo that had just threw a shuriken to grab his attention. Another one still sat lightly between his fingers.

 

“Get up, you pathetic whelp.”

Hanzo threw the second shuriken, catching Genji in the arm. His katana was still unsheathed and casually wavered by his side, impatiently waiting for his brother to face him.

Seeing he had no choice, the young man lifted himself up, tripping over himself and taking several deep breaths in the process. Hanzo continued to glower at him until Genji removed his own sword from its sheath. The elder’s eyes lit and he muttered something under his breath that Genji never caught.

 

Hanzo didn’t hold back, a long buried anger released from the depths of his mind. He fumed, only sparing half his attention towards his physical actions. Every annoyance and ignorant thing Genji had done flooded his mind, and with each swipe, a memory was relieved with vengeance.

 

But Genji wasn’t holding on as well. Fear had taken hold of him. He hadn’t been given even a chance to ready a stance before Hanzo jumped on him. Vicious attacks cut his arms and warm blood trickled down, soaking into his clothes, and every time the blade tapped him, the cool steel made him shiver. Sweat beaded his forehead as he did his best to dodge and parry every attack his brother made.

 

Genji managed to disengage in a dangerous leap to the side, barely avoiding a side cut from Hanzo, and decided it best to keep a distance from his brother as he tried to cope with the overwhelming pain. As soon as he reached the opposite end, he collapsed, hand still tightly wrapped around the hilt of his blade. Each arm was laced with scarlet, the cut on his chest bled uncomfortably through his clothes, and a small stream could be found trickling down his calf.

 

Sprawled on the floor, a small pool of blood forming around him, Genji didn’t even try to look up at his brother, eyes cast down on the floor that was close enough to kiss.

Hanzo let out a grunt of disapproval.

“I always knew you were weak.”

He dragged it out in a harsh whisper, approaching the tired figure.

“You can’t land a hit on me,” A taunt and a light laugh, “What am I kidding, you can’t even look at me in the eyes!”

This time a ferocious yell… with a hint of--

 

Genji lifted his chest off the floor and sat on his knees. He glared at Hanzo for just a moment, just before their eyes met. The younger brother’s face fell, Hanzo was _tired_ . His face and eyes depressed, lines of fury outlining the features further, and a layer of hopelessness staining the entire thing. Lost hope for what could’ve been a _happy ending?_ Genji got no further in his thoughts. Hanzo had grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and he found himself thrown to the other end of the shrine. The impact caused him to release what little air was still in his lungs, and left him breathless. Propping himself up on his arms, he found Hanzo was still standing on the other side, but the katana was gone. In its place was a bow, an arrow already drawn back.

The string barely gave a whisper as Hanzo’s fingers let go. There was a thud, Genji screamed.

 

Tears grew in Hanzo’s eyes, as he drew back once more, if it was of regret, he couldn’t tell, but it saved his brother’s life for a bit longer. The arrow was at full draw, and his eyes filled were filled with tears. He had a clear shot.

 

And missed.

 

Another thud echoed in Genji’s left ear. His eyes immediately turned to glance at the splintered wood beside him, and his stomach dropped. Only a centimeter away from his head.

The broadhead arrow that had buried itself in his right arm was hardly noted now that death had whispered in his ear. Hanzo had lowered his bow, but Genji didn’t notice.

After a moment of panic, the pain of the first arrow brought him back to reality, and he gasped again, breaking off the shaft. He struggled to stand up on shaky legs, head drowning in pain.

Only thinking his brother would attack again, his left hand reached to grab three shurikens and release them in rapid succession.

 

Hanzo had been lost in thought for a moment, reflecting on what he had done--or what he had nearly done. All three struck his shoulder and chest. He only blinked, staggering from the surprising amount of force put into them. Genji took in the opportunity in front of him. Hanzo was distracted, extracting the blades from his shoulder, and he… Well, he had nothing. His hand reached down for the wakizashi that normally sat on his hip, but it wasn't there, and the katana, he’d dropped it when Hanzo threw him.

That meant there was only one option. He charged at his brother.

One hand was clasped on the broken arrow still buried in his lower arm and he bent his head forward letting out an attention-grabbing yell. Hanzo only raised an eyebrow and moved out of the way. His bow came around Genji’s neck, abruptly stopping the charge, and he flung his brother away, lifting the ranged weapon off to forward the momentum.

The world tilted, and all he could feel was the immense pain of the arrow burying deeper into his arm, and for a moment, Hanzo stared at his unmoving body.

His older brother seemed to have no emotion on his face, it was a blank slate previous tears staining it. Hanzo had tossed his bow away, literally casting it behind him, and approached the body, hoping to find it still alive. Was it too cruel to hope his brother was still alive in this state, was it selfishness?

Genji had managed to land right next to his sword as he’d hoped. Of course, now he was more bruised than ever, and his neck had the uncomfortable sensation that he was being choked, but nevertheless, he had a weapon again. Controlling his breathing to cause the rise of his chest it be as low as it could go, he waited for the near silent steps of his brother to inch closer. His grip tightened on the hilt, and once he felt close enough, he leapt up with what little strength he had. Hanzo flinched and jumped back immediately as Genji tried to catch him unaware. However, contrary to the older’s beliefs, Genji didn't immediately attack. Instead he started muttering under his breath, voice steadily getting louder, and arms outstretched, the blade in hand.

 

“Ryūjin no ken w-”

He got no further. As fast as the green head of a dragon appeared, it disappeared. Hanzo had been quick to react to the summoning of the dragon. His katana was out of its sheath once more, and in one determined swing, it sliced through Genji’s shoulder in a hideous display. The blade had gone upward and through his armpit, neatly sliding through bone and flesh alike. And through a sudden eerie silence, behind the squelching of a severed arm, the tapestry tore like paper, echoing throughout the temple.

And despite the protesting roar of the green dragon, Hanzo wasn’t done. He brought down the blade in a diagonal arc, following his last attack and believing that simply removing Genji’s grip on the blade wouldn’t stop the spirit. The katana split Genji’s mouth, nearly halving his jaw, damaging the teeth, and bloodying the gums of his once handsome face.

 

The young man’s eyes widened, and if his jaw wasn't broken, he might’ve let out an ear-piercing scream. Every nerve screeched from the tremendous pain, and his mind felt like it was folding in on itself. Genji stumbled back, blood pouring from his broken body, and black spots dancing in front of his eyes. Eventually, he felt his back collide with something actually _soft,_ but behind that soft cloth was blood. There was a muffled shout coming from the direction of his brother, and when he turned to look with tear filled and disoriented eyes, a blurry figure charging at him and yelling something that was lost in the heavy beating of his heart.

 

\-----

 

Hanzo had let his brother move as far away as he needed, and there were two reasons. The severing of Genji’s arm and the near split of his jaw disgusted him, and for the fact that further anger had built up in his chest after Genji’s attempt at using the dragon against him. The katana was still in his hands, and his grip flexed, stressed and angry. He saw the helpless figure stumble before him, but the _helpless_ part didn’t seem to register in his mind.  He shouted at the near collapsed figure, his blade raised angrily. Yet… against all odds, the blade flies _out of his hands._ Genji, using the last of his energy and focus, managed to reach up with his remaining arm and disarm his brother. Unfortunately, that didn’t prevent what was to come. What could’ve been a quicker death was now a longer and more painful one.

Hanzo, although surprised by his brother’s move, recovered quickly  and still fought with the momentum. He grabbed Genji’s outstretched arm and pulled so that Genji’s whole body swung with it. Using the palm of his hand, he pounded his brother’s spine, fracturing the bone, then continued on by placing his heel in the crook of his leg causing Genji to collapse. With a loud grunt of anger, Hanzo brought his palm back down on his upper back, causing his younger brother to fade into a state between consciousness and unconsciousness.

The elder whipped around and grabbed his blade off the floor. Then he turned back around, aiming to finish the job, but suddenly realized what he was actually looking at.

 

His once-beloved brother, a broken body, hanging onto the last string of life. A dull clatter echoed in the shrine.

 

Genji was staring at the wall with glazed eyes, and Hanzo’s stomach dropped. He frowned, and walked towards his brother. His knees grew weaker every second he was forced to watch his dying brother.

Genji’s eyes darter in his direction once they were only a few feet apart. His brother’s mouth opened oddly, his lips only a centimeter apart. Hanzo didn't feel he had the strength to do anything, hands dropping by his sides, only able to grip something small. Genji glanced down, confused, and finally tried to speak in a hoarse choke.

_“H-Hanz...o… I.. ‘m… sca-ared...”_

Red trickled down his throat as Hanzo lifted the knife he’d put to his brother, last words echoing in his ears. Words he used to hear which made him want to help his brother, protect him.

He couldn't take it anymore. Mentally exhausted, Hanzo’s legs collapsed under him, and he stared down at his lifeless brother with blurry eyes. He opened his mouth to say something, but nothing except a sigh came out. He struggled back to his feet... and started to run. Every step was a stumble, and he fell into a heap of sadness in the secluded space of grass where he hoped nobody would find him. His weeping didn't last long and soon he was left reconsidering every little act he’d done in his life.  
  
Blood, sweat, and tears.  
The showing of hard work. What people put into the things they loved.  
  
He'd done it just like them.  
Yet it wasn't the same.

  


_“...I am so sorry...”_


	2. Between Life and Death

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The small victory was short-lived as Connor spoke up.
> 
> “Hey, I think there's-”
> 
> The sniper cut himself off and trained his rifle on something outside the window. He could've sworn something black had just moved across the bridge.

**Between Life and Death**

**[Genji 1]**

 

There’s a legend told to the local children in Hanamura that is used to warn them of the dangerous yakuza that thrives not too far away. They tell of the Shimada Clan’s late masters. That each man to come to power is part of the Shimada bloodline, and it is said that when enemies have tried to strike them down, they failed. Though the history of assassinated leaders is short, the very few witnesses have told of the terrifying stories they watched from the corners of their eyes. When a Shimada is struck down, through throat, brain or heart, they do not die immediately. The master is said to be possessed by some monster, a light would fill the wound and the Shimada would rise again to strike down his killer. It would all happen in just two seconds, and then the body would collapse, an empty shell. 

 

\-----

 

Strike Commander Morrison was personally leading a small group of Overwatch’s forces, including Angela Zielger, to investigate the notorious Shimada Clan. The den of assassins had been on the to-do list for quite a while, and with their current leader dead by mysterious forces, they were certainly going to be in some disarray. Jack Morrison himself had accompanied the mission to see what this clan was all about through a first-hand experience. Everyone else impatiently waited for their arrival. Two men and their sniper were playing cards. 

The pilot, intently focused on flying the ship, interrupted their game as the group reached the peak of their match. “Pack your game up, lads, we’re approaching Hanamura.”

 

They took a minute, but eventually everybody came down to their last card and the sniper slapped his last card in the middle of the table with a sly smile, “Eight tricks, I win.”

“Good game,” His opponent sighed, the other muttered something about cheating. 

 

The strike commander gave a small grunt of amusement, but let them clean up their game.

“Connor, scan outside, we’re going to land on the edge of the leftmost balcony of that shrine,” Morrison ordered. The sniper complied and left in the direction of the cockpit with a crooked salute.

“ _ All clear, _ ” he said through the comm a minute later. 

The airship started to quiet down and slow causing the team to feel uneasy. Nervousness was expected, and it wasn't a bad thing. It makes you cautious and more alert, as long as you can control it, and Shimada Castle might be one of the most unpredictable places they would go to. Unpredictable and organized. There was a soft click and the large door in front of them opened. The soft evening light filtered in and created long shadows as everyone stepped out. The pilot closed up behind them, leaving to search for a landing spot out of sight. Before anyone moved, Morrison contacted the sniper.

“ _ Connor? _ ”

“ _ Located at the right window, sir, clear view. _ ”

 

Morrison gave a short nod to his team and they moved into the foyer. All seemed fine as they gave quick glances around the area, no one was there, and the room was dimly lit except for the few lamps dotted around the building. They continued forward, wanting to make their way to the stairs on the other side, but were interrupted by the disturbed noise of one of the men.

 

“Uh, guys?” The man was looking down and lifting his foot from a wet streak of blood.

Everybody had turned around, but Angela had only taken one look at the streak, and immediately whipped her head around to check the rest of the surrounding area, pushing past the tiny group. 

 

“ _ Connor, are you sure nobody was in here or left? _ ” Her foreign accent filtered through everyone’s comm. Her eyes were trained on a certain banner, and the contents beneath it.

“ _ Pretty sure, _ ” answered the sniper with a contradictory tone, and they saw him glance back in their direction. 

The rest of the team, confused by the perhaps recent incident, exchanged glances and followed Angela to where she was now kneeling, muttering every German curse she knew. 

Her hand was pressed to a neck wound on a battered and bloody young man. Everyone behind the doctor looked near terrified, each one had seen death many times, but not one so… terrible. They moved away to give the doctor room, but Angela was no longer paying attention to her surroundings. Her clothes were already stained, and her fingers dripping wet from trying to stop what she could. The doctor put pressure on the cut and was answered with a gurgled grunt from the dying man. Satisfied that he was still alive, she grabbed the Caduceus Staff, smearing the sticky red liquid on it as well, and pressed the end to the same wound she’d been holding before. A bright swarm of nanites surrounded the wound and went to work stopping any more bleeding while stitching the wound bit by bit back together. For a few seconds she waited, making sure any and all damaged had been fixed in that certain area, then deactivated the staff. Angela gave herself a small, seldom smile of victory, the man would live perhaps long enough for her to save him completely. 

The small victory was short-lived as Connor spoke up.

“ _ Hey, I think there's-” _

The sniper cut himself off and trained his rifle on something outside the window. He could've sworn something black had just moved across the bridge.

 

Suddenly aware that they were in enemy territory again, the soldiers all lifted their guns, moving into a defensive circle around Angela and waiting for some sort of movement that might betray someone’s presence. Christoph, the same man to find the blood, would have sworn he saw something after the mission on the loft above them. However, even if had wanted to something, a loud  _ cark!  _ interrupted him.

 

Everyone flinched as the silence was suddenly filled by the cawing and flapping wings of a bird. A grackle flew from the bridge directly across the sniper’s view, who was tempted to whack the bird for scaring him.

“ _ Sorry, guys, false alarm. Just a damn bird.” _

Everyone let out a collective sigh of relief, Angela hadn’t even batted an eye.

 

“ _ You can never be too careful in a place like this, _ ” Morrison answered then turned to the doctor who was still trying to fix what she could.

 

“Angela, do you want to head back?” He asked, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder, he grew to personally know Angela, and he knew she could get stressed very easily when it came to dire situations.  “We can always come back to this mission another day.” 

The doctor nodded her head as she held the young man’s jaw together and continued to press the staff against areas, allowing streams of medical nanites to fix him. He weakly protested, not even able to close his mouth. Morrison directed one of his men to pick the injured man up. Angela stressed on the part of  _ gently _ picking him up. 

Commander Morrison called the ship, and soon all five men and women, plus a body, had climbed on and left as quickly as they came.

It had been less than 5 minutes.

 

\-----

 

Inside the ship, Angela quickly took charge. Her German accent combined with the harsh tone she used made her sound intimidating, and no one hesitated to follow orders. They laid the injured man on a temporary medical bed, and the doctor, after sanitizing herself, quickly began to do what she could with limited resources in a less stressed environment.

Demanding bandages, she quickly wrapped up the poor man. Both his arms, which meant the stub, were wrapped in white and already fading to red. Some men were disturbed and tried to keep far away. Someone joked about bringing the severed arm onboard to try and lighten the mood, it just made everyone more disgusted.

Angela was forced to remove the tattered shirt to both check for infections, and simply get rid of the filthy thing. When she managed to lift it, her heart skipped a beat. 

_ I must admit, he has an impressive build, but it's not the first I've seen. _

Straightening her face, she continued to work, listening to the occasional whimper of protest the young man made. Between that and the soft whirring of the engine, it was absolutely silent.

 

“I’ll have you fixed up in no time, but we’ll have to wait a few hours,” she murmured more to herself than anyone. Grabbing the very useful Caduceus Staff, she carefully pressed it against most of the heavily bleeding areas to at least stop blood from pouring out. The nanites worked like magic, they flooded into the wounds, helping regenerate platelets and temporarily stopping the flow of blood as she stitched some of the areas together. It helped a lot, but it would only be temporary, Angela needed all the technology she had back at the lab. The last impactful thing she could do on this ride was secure the young man’s jaw. Despite the young man’s weak struggle and protests, it was a rather easy task. She aligned the two broken parts while closing the mouth then tightly, but carefully, wrapped a bandage around his head to keep it in place. It looked a bit ridiculous and she couldn’t help but let a small smile slip. However, it was more of pity than amusement.

After that, she sat. Helplessly watching her patient shift in between consciousness and unconsciousness. 

Someone offered to call Overwatch’s medical center, but Angela waved him off, it was one of the first things she had done. All they could do was wait now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short but sweet, when I go to write Genji's next piece, it's always good to have some background for the reader.
> 
> If you're curious to how I am writing this, I'm splitting the chapters between Hanzo and Genji. So the first chapter told of both, 2nd of Genji, 3rd of Hanzo, etc. The story flips between both of them, like a lot of books does with separated characters.


	3. Stolen Family

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He killed his brother. He killed Genji, one of the last holders of his family name, and then he let complete strangers drag the body away. For countless years he had followed the orders of his elders, believing that they would make the wisest decisions, but this…

**Stolen Family**

**[Hanzo 1]**

Everything felt like a blur. He couldn't even register his own hand upon his injured shoulder, and despite the fall winds lightly brushing past and the calm red sun, his mind was only filled with ugly thoughts. Death and struggle, blood and violence. The last words his brother spoke… 

 

Hanzo threw his head back and gave a choked sigh, but his regretful thoughts were broken by a familiar whirring sound. Was there a plane nearby? But... no shipments were due, nor were any people to arrive. Were there infiltrators? Lifting himself off the ground, he approached the opening from which he had entered the training field. His experienced eyes quickly peeked around the corner and gave him an image of his surroundings. The only difference was a sniper lay in wait in the far left window, probably protecting whoever was now in the temple, and whoever was now in the temple was looking at his brother’s corpse.

Hanzo felt a wave of protectiveness wash over him. Nobody was going to touch his brother, dead or alive. 

Keeping in mind the sniper, he skillfully climbed the side of the wall and immediately ducked down on the walkway that would lead to the upper decks of the building. 

With his feet barely making a sound across the old wood structure, he crossed the carp statue and stepped through one of many entrances. Just in case, he peeked around the corner of the staircase that led to the balcony. The sniper was intently searching outside, had he possibly seen him? 

Only one way to find out. Stepping back, Hanzo gave a quick search of his surroundings, looking for something that might satisfy the man’s concern. His eyes landed on a black bird preening its feathers on the floor of the walkway. Perfect.

If the infiltrator had seen him it must’ve been his hair, and a black bird might just be the best substitute. He approached the bird, expecting it to fly away once he had moved only a few feet closer. However, the bird continued to clean itself. Hanzo got closer, minding to keep his head down, and made a large shooing motion at the bird. It stopped what it was doing and stared at Hanzo, curiously tilting its head. 

_ For goodness sake, bird. _ He lightly hit the bird, but it only jumped away and defensively pecked his hand. At this point Hanzo felt like slapping himself and walking away, but he would not be deterred. Instead, he simply signaled the bird to climb onto his hand and tried to toss it in the air. Apparently the bird liked that better, because it jumped off and took flight, cawing at the top of its lungs. 

_ That should be enough, but it took much more work than it should have _ Hanzo thought with an inward sigh.

Indicating that his plan did work, the sniper trained his rifle on the bird, then let his guard down. Hanzo didn’t care to watch though, and darted across the small hallway quietly hopping up the stairs. He accidentally moved past the doorframe, but quickly ducked back behind it, unsure of what to expect. That is, until he heard the voices. The first one was more clear, and on his left.  _ “Sorry, guys, false alarm. Just a damn bird.” _

They were also speaking in English, which made it a bit harder to understand anything. He heard a response from below which just sounded like gibberish in his ears. Listening to a foreign language behind walls with several yards in between you made it even harder to understand. Slightly frustrated, but now sure where his new found enemies were located, he peeked around the corner. His eyes initially made a quick sweep on the sniper, making sure he wasn't looking up, then he glanced down at the group below him. 

From what he could see, there was a group of four, three men and one woman. At this point they all appeared to be leaving. One man seemed to be uncomfortably holding the body of his brother, and even seeing it from far away caused Hanzo’s eyes to tear up in grief. The woman was fussing over the man with an accent that slightly annoyed Hanzo, how could you possibly understand the English language if everyone spoke it differently? 

However, past being annoyed, he felt helpless and alone as complete strangers stole his brother’s body for whatever reason.  He would have loved to engage them and protect the empty shell of family, but even from here he could see the heavy guns each man held. Studying the retreating figures further, he noticed the matching uniforms of blue and white accents, his eyes frantically searched for some sign of a logo, but by then they had already entered the ship. 

A heavy thud below startled Hanzo. The sniper had jumped down from his position, rifle secured to his back, and was casually walking towards the ship after the previous group. Despite being disappointed in himself for forgetting the man, Hanzo took the perfect opportunity to spot the logo that had marked every uniform. 

It was a white circle turned orange at the top with two arms arching in the middle. They were a part of Overwatch, the group that had fought in the Omnic Crisis and currently fought to bring peace to the world. No wonder they were lurking here.

The last man hopped onto the ship, and Hanzo listened as the ship took off and eventually left earshot. He turned around and walked down the stairs, staring straight ahead. Then faster than a man could blink, his fist collided with the wall.

“ _ Kuso _ !”

Why didn't he try to do something? At the very least he could've taken out the sniper, or distract them, scare them,  _ something _ ! Instead he’d sat there, too afraid to do anything for his own sake. He continued walking, practically breathing out frustration as his feet carried him across the bridge and down the steps. 

Past the gate, through an entrance, and across a silent, paved road. Through a door, up more stairs, and then another door, staring straight ahead with angry eyes until he made it to his room. 

He broke down, but it was worse this time. Full of so much regret and grief, filled with thoughts of unworthiness and dishonor, he collapsed into a heap on his bed. He didn't bother to dress his wounds first, nor did he care to take off his blood stained clothes. Nothing mattered except for his actions. 

He killed his brother. He killed  _ Genji _ , one of the last members of his close family, and then he let complete strangers  _ drag the body away _ . For countless years he had followed the orders of his elders, believing that they would make the wisest decisions, but this… 

He rolled over to stare at the ceiling, tears stung his eyes as he tried to think of what he could’ve done. However, no matter how hard or how long he pondered, there was no other way Hanzo could have saved his brother. 

 

Those last words still echoed in his head. One day, he swore, they would drive him insane.

As the words still echoed in his ears, he looked at his hands, gently bringing himself to a sitting position. Each one was splattered in blood, sticky yet dry. It was only another reminder of what he’d done. A mournful scream of “ _ No!”  _ sounded across the house, coming from the grieving lungs of Hanzo. Another followed, and another, growing weaker as he continued, until he was left sobbing quietly, tears and blood mixing in the sheets of his bed. For an hour he lay, weeping for his lost brother, curled up in a ball and unwilling to move. He might’ve called himself childish if it weren’t for the situation he was in. Eventually, he was forced to get up by the same force that had made him murder his brother, orders and commitment. 

Hanzo rose, a tired man, and trudged towards the shower. Despite the relaxing water, he felt no better, and when he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror, he didn’t recognize who stared back at him. He made himself look presentable, and walked out the building. The fall air only made him tense, and he did his best to look confident as he strode along the road. Fake it until you make it.

At exactly six in the evening, he walked in and greeted his elders, making no effort to hide the exhaustion that lined his face. They noticed the unfortunate state Hanzo was in, but did not mention it. Instead, they invited him to sit down as they discussed his ascension in the Clan. Their first question was if he completed the task.

Hanzo answered, remembering the disappearance of the body, “Genji is dead, gone from this world. If you were to see him in any shape or form, you’d only be seeing a ghost.” 

Throughout the meeting, he did his best to listen, but some things blurred and faded here and there, making it hard to listen and respond to what was being said. Whether or not they noticed this, Hanzo was thankful when they decided to discuss the rest of this in a couple of days. Their reason was that ‘you must need to rest after your task, the death of family members can cause rough times for even the strongest of us.’ Hanzo thanked them for their time and quickly left, no longer wanting to be noticed. The relief of being alone lifted weight off his shoulders, but barely any to be of significant notice.

Silence settled on the empty street as everyone began to ready for the night. The fall breeze turned into a heavier wind, and as it grew stronger, it grew colder. The winds bit at his face, taunting him, trying to make him angry again. But Hanzo remained unfazed, he stared straight ahead, solemn and sober. His stride didn’t speed or slow, and not a single step made a sound.

For nearly an hour he walked the streets of Hanamura, going nowhere, meeting the stares of children who were being herded inside, and all the while walking silently with the same stride, never a moment out of beat. 

He felt like a ghost, someone who was supposed to be here, yet not supposed to be here. Something out of the ordinary which people feared. Something faceless and haunting.

One brave boy, a decade or so younger than him, decided to face him with a girl cowering behind. Hanzo stopped as the teenager stepped in his way. His eyes moved from the concrete to the boy’s eyes in a cold, unforgiving stare.

“Move,” he said, low and intimidating.

The girl’s eyes immediately dropped and she tapped her friend’s shoulder. 

“Come on, Jiro, we should probably just keep on going our way,” It came out in a nervous mumble, and the boy, Jiro, gave her one glance and an ignorant snort. 

 

“No way! Look at this sad sack,” He sneered, all the while glaring at Hanzo. “Isn’t he supposed to be an all great Shimada or something? I’ll bet he can’t even punch a dummy without crying. Isn’t that right,  _ Shit- _ mada?”

The boy’s face shriveled into a mocking expression as he continued to taunt the unfazed man. 

 

“I’ll give you three seconds to move.”

 

“Or you’ll what--” Jiro was cut off by his pleading friend. The girl fell to her knees and looked up at Hanzo.

“Oh, please, Shimada-sama, please forgive my friend! He’s not thinking correctly right now, he must have had one too many drinks. I promise I…”

 

Hanzo’s eyes had only glanced at the begging girl for a second, then decided her plea was of no matter. Instead, he approached the boy until their chests nearly touched.

 

“I won’t tell you what I’ll do, but I will tell you what I’ve done,” he spat. “Today, not two hours ago, I murdered my own brother because he was in my way. I walked out of there without a scratch, and that was only  _ today _ . I’ve killed more people than you’ve fucked, if you had ever had a chance, and I’m  _ done _ dealing with everyone’s shit. So, I’m feeling generous and giving you and your friend five seconds to get out of my sight before someone realizes you’re gone.”

 

The boy’s face fell, and while being distracted by the threatening glare he was receiving, he forgot to notice something terribly painful. Hanzo’s right fist hooked underneath Jiro’s chin in a hideous crack and sent him flying back.

 

“The timer starts now.”

 

The two scrambled to their feet and began to run, not caring to look back, and eventually disappeared behind the nearest corner.

As soon as they were out of sight, however, his hardened gaze softened, and he lowered his head again. Hanzo felt guilt for using his brother’s death as an intimidating factor, but that was how the world worked. He began to go on his way home, just the way he came.

 

Not surprisingly, he arrived home near nine-thirty. A few sentries straightened their poise if they saw him while walking through the grounds, but he was otherwise left alone and unnoticed. Now he sat in the kitchen, properly dressing his wounds. He had lied to the kid, the battle had left him scathed, although it was more emotional than physical. 

Hanzo gently dabbed an alcohol soaked rag on his shoulder, hissing at the sting it made against the already throbbing cuts. Genji had always used shurikens more lethally than they were meant, and in this case he finally knew how bad it hurt. However, unlike his own, they weren’t coated in poison.

Each shuriken had buried itself far deeper into his skin than he had originally thought, and now he stared at them in the mirror, flexing his muscles as much as he dared to test them. Eventually he wrapped his shoulder with bandages and sat down to have a light dinner in the lonely kitchen light. The next month wouldn't be too easy.

 

\-----

 

And so it wasn't. For the next week he consulted with the elders about becoming the Master of the Shimada Clan. Each meeting would take up a majority of the day, and for the few hours he had open, there was little he could do. His ability to train was weakened, for his left arm would always falter when using the bow, and every time he held his katana, guilt and sorrow overwhelmed him. So all the while he was forced to stay put and find other things to do. It wasn't that hard, however. 

He already had an e-book which would allow him to read whatever he'd like, and on the third day he decided to purchase a blank journal in which he took the time to draw. Other times he sat down in the castle to meditate, a way of calming his mind from stress and forgetting the predicament with his brother. 

At the end of the week, the elders called him for the last time as an heir to his father. Hanzo entered in his formal wear to find the elders dressed similarly and standing in a circle, he noticed his uncle patiently stood behind them. 

In the past few days he’d quickly grown to dislike Hayato. He was there in every meeting despite not being officially welcomed to the elders’ circle, and he always seemed to be convincing the others to his own favor by giving what sounded like mild suggestions. After the day he had been ordered to rid of Genji, Hanzo realized what Hayato was trying to do. 

Today, however, his uncle was at the back of his mind. Instead, he focused on the ceremony in front of him. Each man spoke to him in turn, and two presented him with items. The first was a set of robes, tailored especially for him and his duty, and the next, his katana, polished and sharpened to shine bright as the sun. Afterwards, they made formal and extended farewells and Hanzo left, confident and straight-backed. But when he was once more out of sight, he stopped and stared at the blade he’d been given again. All the blood had been cleaned off, and the hilt was no longer stiff with dry sweat. He carefully brushed a finger along the edge, feeling the perfectly sharp curve and creating a cut he could barely feel.

A drop of blood was all it took, and Hanzo felt like falling to his knees again. The perfectly rounded drop looked so clean against the shining edge, like everything was perfect, even the small imperfection had no flaws. Was he really expected to do this right the first time as if he had been doing it his whole life?

With a heavy sigh he brushed off the blood and sheathed the katana. With a quick glance over his shoulder, he returned home just so he could put away his stuff and sit at the empty table in the kitchen. He could've sat there for hours on end, staring at the chair that seated no one. But thoughts began to stir in his head and he couldn't continue. 

Everyday he’d wake up and check his wounds, and now without being pressured with  _ becoming  _ the master of the Shimada Clan, he had some more leisure time next to his new work. 

More time meant more thinking, more walking, more drawing, more suffering.

For the next month, Hanzo constantly found himself thinking about his actions, reimagining the scenes in where he mercilessly and brutally harmed his brother. When he drew, he began to notice that his sketches began to look familiar, like Genji. Hanzo was cautious about not drawing stories, afraid that they might reflect past experiences. He did his best to keep himself busy. Hanzo found himself leading assassinations, finding areas of good trade and ordered infiltrations and heists. He personally met with dealers when it came to the selling of arms or substances, and if there was nothing else to do at the moment, he would check their storage and men to make sure everything was running smoothly.

 

Unfortunately, there came a time when Hanzo had to enter the temple, his findings were not to his liking.

 

Hanzo had left the katana in its stand, and was only armed with his bow and the occasional hidden knife. Upon entering the building, nothing happened. He’d tensed up for this specific moment, waiting, expecting,  _ something _ to happen, but nothing changed. Nothing moved, nothing stirred.

Except, Hanzo swore the smell of something tangy began to fill the air. He was standing in the middle of the room, staring at the banner with it’s one tear. The reek grew stronger, and the longer he stared at the torn piece, the more familiar it came, until… 

 

The room grew darker, the air grew thick, and the smell of blood hung in the air. Hanzo glanced around, unsure of what was happening, but turned back when he heard a whimper. Directly in front of him, the tapestry was still soaking in the damage it took, and below him. Below him was the crumpled form of his brother, Genji. It looked up at him with pleading eyes.

“Anija,” It whispered, and in that moment Hanzo felt something shift in his hands. The same katana he had used to murder the man in front of him rested in his grip again. Absolutely horrified, he dropped the blade and stumbled, falling on his back only to be brought into reality again. 

The room was bright again, the afternoon sun shined outside, and the banner only gently swayed with the wind. No harm was being done, and yet… It had felt so  _ real _ . Hanzo quickly left without glancing back. He couldn't do this, not now.

The boy’s face fell, and while being distracted by the threatening glare he was receiving, he forgot to notice something terribly painful. Hanzo’s right fist hooked underneath Jiro’s chin in a hideous crack and sent him flying back.

“The timer starts now.”

The two scrambled to their feet and began to run, not caring to look back, and eventually disappeared behind the nearest corner.

As soon as they were out of sight, however, his hardened gaze softened, and he lowered his head again. Hanzo felt guilt for using his brother’s death as an intimidating factor, but that was how the world worked. He began to go on his way home, just the way he came.

Not surprisingly, he arrived home near nine-thirty. A few sentries straightened their poise if they saw him while walking through the grounds, but he was otherwise left alone and unnoticed. Now he sat in the kitchen, properly dressing his wounds. He had lied to the kid, the battle had left him scathed, however it was more emotional than physical.

Hanzo gently dabbed an alcohol soaked rag on his shoulder, hissing at the sting it made against the already throbbing cuts. Genji had always used shurikens more lethally than they were meant, and in this case he finally knew how bad it hurt.

Each shuriken had buried itself far deeper into his skin than he had originally thought, and now he stared at them in the mirror, flexing his muscles as much as he dared to test them. Eventually he wrapped his shoulder with bandages and sat down to have a light dinner in the lonely kitchen light. The next month wouldn't be too easy.

\-----

And so it wasn't. For the next week he consulted with the elders about becoming the Master of the Shimada Clan. Each meeting would take up a majority of the day, and for the few hours he had open, there was little he could do. His ability to train was weakened, for his left arm would always falter when using the bow, and every time he held his katana, guilt and sorrow overwhelmed him. So all the while he was forced to stay put and find other things to do. It wasn't that hard, however.

He already had an e-book which would allow him to read whatever he'd like, and on the third day he decided to purchase a blank journal in which he took the time to draw. Other times he sat down in the castle to meditate, a way of calming his mind from stress and forgetting the predicament with his brother.

At the end of the week, the elders called him for the last time. Hanzo entered in his formal wear to find the elders dressed similarly and standing in a circle, he noticed his uncle patiently stood behind them.

In the past few days he’d quickly grown to dislike Hayato. He was there in every meeting despite not being officially welcomed to the elders’ circle, and he always seemed to be convincing the others to his own favor by giving what sounded like mild suggestions. After the day he had been ordered to rid of Genji, Hanzo realized what Hayato was trying to do.

Today, however, his uncle was at the back of his mind. Instead, he focused on the ceremony in front of him. Each man spoke to him in turn, and two presented him with items. The first was a set of robes, tailored especially for him and his duty, and the next, his katana, polished and sharpened to shine bright as the sun. Afterwards, they made formal and extended farewells and Hanzo left, confident and straight-backed. But when he was once more out of sight, he stopped and stared at the blade he’d been given again. All the blood had been cleaned off, and the hilt was no longer stiff with dry sweat. He carefully brushed a finger along the edge, feeling the perfectly sharp curve and creating a cut he could barely feel.

A drop of blood was all it took, and Hanzo felt like falling to his knees again. The perfectly rounded drop looked so clean against the shining edge, like everything was perfect, even the small imperfection had no flaws. Was he really expected to do this right the first time as if he had been doing it his whole life?

With a heavy sigh he brushed off the blood and sheathed the katana. With a quick glance over his shoulder, he returned home just so he could put away his stuff and sit at the empty table in the kitchen. He could've sat there for hours on end, staring at the chair that seated no one. But thoughts began to stir in his head and he couldn't continue.

Everyday he’d wake up and check his wounds, and now without being pressured with _becoming_ the master of the Shimada Clan, he had even more leisure time next to his new work.

More time meant more thinking, more walking, more drawing, more suffering.

For the next month, Hanzo constantly found himself thinking about his actions, reimagining the scenes in where he mercilessly and brutally harmed his brother. When he drew, he began to notice that his sketches began to look familiar, like Genji. Hanzo was conscious about not drawing stories, afraid that they might reflect past experiences. He did his best to keep himself busy. Hanzo led assassinations, found areas of good trade and ordered infiltrations and heists, he personally most personal deals when it came to the selling of arms or substances, and if there was nothing else to do at the moment, he would check their storage and men to make sure everything was running smoothly.

Unfortunately, there came a time when Hanzo had to enter the shrine, his findings were not to his liking.

Hanzo had left the katana in its stand, and was only armed with his bow and the occasional hidden knife. Upon entering the building, nothing happened. He’d tensed up for this specific moment, waiting, expecting, _something_ to happen, but nothing changed. Nothing moved, nothing happened.

Except, Hanzo swore the smell of something tangy began to fill the air. He was standing in the middle of the shrine, staring at the banner with it’s one tear. The reek grew stronger, and the longer he stared at the torn piece, the more familiar it came, until…

The room grew darker, the air grew thick, and the smell of blood hung in the air. Hanzo glanced around, unsure of what was happening, but turned back when he heard a whimper. Directly in front of him, the tapestry was still soaking in the damage it took, and below him. Below him was the crumpled form of his brother, Genji. It looked up at him with pleading eyes.

“Anija,” It whispered, and in that moment Hanzo felt something shift in his hands. The same katana he had used to murder the man in front of him rested in his grip again. Absolutely horrified, he dropped the blade and stumbled back, only to be brought into reality again.

The room was bright again, the afternoon sun shined outside, and the banner only gently swayed with the wind. No harm was being done, and yet… It had felt so _real_. Hanzo quickly left without glancing back. He couldn't do this, not now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Birds are my happy place.


	4. It's Calm For Now

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Genji took a moment to take a better look at his surroundings. Far in front of him, the other side of the room, was a countered wall with various cupboards, and of course, no windows. Probably so no one would disturb the priso-- prisoners? Where did that come from? He was a patient of Ms. Angela Ziegler. Or.. At least he thought he was.

**It's Calm For Now**

**[Genji 2]**

 

The room was a white blur. Soft voices murmured and echoed all around him. He lay on something unrecognizable, but numbly comfortable. A pale, blurry thing moved over his face, then the world faded into darkness.

…

He woke up again, the world not as odd as it was before. There was a white tiled ceiling above him, and underneath his slowly throbbing head, a fluffy pillow which let him sink into oblivion. It was rather comfortable for death.

His eyes began to water as he remembered _how_ he died. The mental and physical pain that came with it and how helpless he was to do anything to stop his brother. As a tear began to trail down his cheek, he noticed it suddenly stopped and began to follow a 90 degree angle. His eyes shifted to his cheek and for the first time he noticed a metal piece surrounding his entire jaw. Genji attempted to say something, but his mouth couldn't open even the slightest bit.

_What the hell was this?_

Was he magically not dead? His eyes glanced down at his right arm, trying to get his eyes to focus. It was still gone, and in its place a sort of plastic cup closed the wound. For a moment he would wish the world would stop fucking with him and at least allow his mind to make sense of the situation. Approaching voices caught his attention, but his drugged state didn't allow him to feel any real sense of alarm.

 

“...waking up, at last. I do hope that drug you gave him won't keep him senseless forever. The last few times he woke up he just stared at the ceiling and then fell asleep again, _kaput!”_

 

“Sorry, Dr. Ziegler, we just normally have to use the stuff on Blackwatch’s... eh, I wouldn't call them patients, more like prisoners.”

 

 _Prisoners? Who the hell would take a dead man prisoner?_ Genji wondered, he also realized that they were speaking in English, and that the first voice was annoyingly accented.

“Well, he’s no prisoner when he’s in my care. After he’s healthy and able to take care of himself, you may do what you must. But for now, the poor man is my charge, not Morrison’s nor Reyes’.”

A slightly blurry woman looked over him, his eyes solely focused on her, narrowing and aiming to be intimidating. Despite his state, he wasn't going to take this situation lightly.

“Greetings, Mr. Shimada, I hope you are feeling well?” He was able to discern that the blonde doctor at least had a nervous smile on her face. Good.

Apparently she must have forgotten that he couldn't talk, and patiently waited for an answer. He could only stare at her then raise an eyebrow in a questioning stare. The other presumed doctor saved them from an everlasting awkward silence.

 

“Er.. Dr. Ziegler he can't talk,” They said with a confused slur.

 

“Oh, right,” she answered with an apologetic smile. Genji, still unable to talk, tried to sit himself up, starting to become uncomfortable in the laying position. Doctor Ziegler reached out and tried to stop him, but was a little too late.

Lifting yourself up with only one arm was difficult enough, but the damage done to his spine, and the difficulty of making his legs move caused immense pain to spike through him. His eyes simply widened and he collapsed in a tearful heap. The doctor stuck something sharp into the back of his left arm, and he felt himself get drowsy again as the pain lessened.

Both doctors helped him back into his previous position, and were kind enough to try to prop him up a bit more. After a few minutes his head cleared, and he used his remaining hand to rub his forehead and eyes, tired despite being asleep for who knows how long.

Neither doctor heeded their attention towards him for the moment, so Genji took the time to explore the metal muzzle placed on him. All he could find was that it was connected to another piece on the back of his head and that there was a way to take it off. The only problem was that he didn't know how. He then checked his legs, lifting the covers a bit, Genji tilted his head to the side and tried to move one leg up. It barely responded. He tried again, still only a little twitch. He wouldn't be able to get out of here on his own--and he wouldn't be able to survive without somewhere to go--but the people so far seemed nice enough.

The one called Ziegler came back, holding an extra tablet on top of her own. She handed him the smaller one with a little smile.

“Unfortunately, you won’t be able to talk for a while because of the damage done to your jaw and throat. I had to implement a certain feature which pumps in oxygen nearly directly to your lungs as well, and the mask will keep your jaw intact until it mends. However, so we can communicate, I brought you a tablet directly hooked up to a chat with me and the other doctors here. That way you can tell us anything you need, or if you just need company. I also realize you aren't a native English speaker, but give it a go.”

Before she had even finished, Genji was efficiently making use of the keyboard and quickly got a message sent.

_‘How do you know who I am? Who are you? Where am I?’_

The doctor glanced down as a small _bing!_ sounded and thoughtfully covered her mouth.

“Oh dear, I suppose you have quite a few questions.”

_‘I could ask many more. I now ask 3.’_

“Well, let me pull up a chair and I’ll tell you what I can.”

She only grabbed past a curtain and a chair trailed behind her. Ziegler crossed her legs to get comfortable while she decided where to start.

“Well, my name is Angela Ziegler. I am a doctor and medical scientist at Overwatch’s disposal. Let’s see, we found you a week back at the--”

Genji stared with wide eyes, and quickly typed something without even looking down at the keyboard.

_‘A week?’_

Angela glanced at her device then solemnly nodded at Genji. “Yes, you’ve been out and recovering all that time, and unfortunately your wounds still need time. But onwards with the story. You were in the castle at Hanamura, in very poor condition. To be honest, I didn't think you were still alive, but by the Heavens it turned out you still had time. We took you back here as quickly as we could and began your recovery. Then, as all patients must go through, we tested your DNA and we figured out you were Genji Shimada. I don't wish to spark any bad memories, but to be back stabbed by those of your own, it must be terrible.”

 _It is,_ Genji thought to himself as the lonely feeling of mixed anger and sadness washed over him.

Angela noticed that he didn't seem to want to talk much, and having answered his three questions already, stood up.

“Well, I’ll give you sometime to think alone. It’s already evening as well, and since you’re mostly back to your senses, tomorrow we’ll get you a tour of the base. I’m sure spending a week in that bed means you must be sick of it.”

She left his sight and to the left he heard a door open and close. It seemed no one else was in here, and all the lights, except for the lamp next to his bed, had been turned off. Genji took a moment to take a better look at his surroundings. Far in front of him, the other side of the room, was a countered wall with various cupboards, and of course, no windows. Probably so no one would disturb the priso-- prisoners? Where did that come from? He was a patient of Ms. Angela Ziegler. Or.. At least he thought he was. He thought about asking on the chat, but it was visible to all of the supposed personnel in the medical department. He’d prefer something more private for a question like that. Who knew what the others might think.

He gave a mental sigh, only because he couldn't do much with the annoying mask--or muzzle as he preferred to call it,--and looked at his attire. Wait… Was he not wearing a shirt? He carefully skimmed a hand over his chest and realized that it was nearly covered wholly in bandages. He was half naked-ish.

Well then.

Forgetting about his injuries for a split second, he let his hand heavily fall on his torn front, and experienced a massive hammer of pain. Tears welled up in his eyes, and he dared not move for the next minute. Maybe they had been too afraid of hurting him to put on a new shirt, there was a lot of reason behind that.

He also wanted to check his legs, but Genji decided it wasn't worth anymore accidental pain tonight and wiggled around to try and get comfortable for some more rest.

Despite having slept for so long, the young man still felt tired and fell asleep easily.

 

\-----

 

A hand gently squeezed his shoulder and shook it as his eyes narrowly opened, afraid to let the light in.

“Sorry if I woke you too harshly, I was just afraid you would sleep in for another week if I didn't,” Doctor Ziegler said in an attempted joke beside Genji’s bed.

 

 _Harsh? Hardly._ Genji raised an amused eyebrow to show the hidden smirk under the mask. And although what she said was meant to be for fun, he was glad that the doctor had woken him. He glanced around and found the tablet still on the table next to him. His hand grabbed it and began typing.

 

_‘How does this work? Do I step out?’_

 

“Oh, right! I promised you a look around, didn't I?” She said in a sweet voice. “Here, your legs are still immobile from your spinal injury, so you’ll have to use a wheelchair, and I’ll also have to move your legs for you.”

Genji nodded his understanding and helped by throwing the sheets off his legs. Angela noticed his worried look as she began to get ready to move him. It must've been because of the last time he’d tried to move.

 

“Don't worry,” she comforted. “I know what I’m doing, I know all your conditions inside and out, literally.”

With careful hands and a bit of lifting, they eventually got Genji in the chair. He lay his head back on the headrest, glad that he was finally in a position other than laying down. Angela poked her head out from behind, giving him a sweet smile.

“Glad you're out?”

 

Genji awkwardly nodded his head and took the moment to stare at her beautifully blue eyes. If the situation wasn’t as confusing, he might’ve found her more attractive, but he put his head back down and grabbed the tablet from his bed.

 

“Here,” Dr. Ziegler handed him a large grey shirt. “It’s a bit big, but I don’t want you to hurt yourself putting it on.”

Genji gladly took the shirt, now out of the bed the room seemed significantly colder. Putting it on would’ve been very easy, if it weren’t for the fact that he was now wearing something on his face and had only one arm to work with. He awkwardly stuck his head out of the neck hole, and got the fabric stuck on the top of the mask. Knowing he looked like a fool, he cast an amused glance at the doctor who was trying to hold in her laughter with an amused smile.

He eventually got the shirt on with a bit of squirming, then Dr. Ziegler kindly draped a soft blanket over his shoulders.

“It’s fall in Switzerland, I don’t think you want to go without something warm,” she’d said, and Genji was quickly glad for the blanket. Apparently they’d put a heater in the room he was formerly in, and when moving into the hallways the air was less controlled and, of course, colder.

They’d moved past a few offices with Angela explaining the people who worked there or the uses of the room before she decided to stop. They had made a lot of process in the winding hallways in the past few minutes, but Genji’s stomach had given a tiny rumble. Angela glanced down at him.

“Actually, perhaps we should feed you first. After all, breakfast is the most important meal of the day!”

Genji simply nodded his agreement, but his stomach went the extra mile to growl its consent. However, while they traveled to the cafeteria, Genji stumbled across a rather good question, how could he eat? He decided to relay the thought through the chat, and got a rather long answer. Listening and science had always been his weak spots, but he tried to comprehend the doctor’s answer.

“Oh, of course,” Ziegler tapped on her bottom lip, probably trying to think of a simple explanation. “Well, due to the significant damage done to your mouth, you won’t be able to chew anything for a while, so we’ve been feeding you mostly broth soups and smoothies. We also have to be careful when taking the mask off, your breathing will be unstable at first since oxygen is already being supplied directly to your larynx. I’m not even sure if you’ve noticed, but you’re barely breathing through your nose or mouth since the air you need isn’t being concentrated there in the mask.”

 

No wonder he’d had the odd feeling of choking. Genji tried to take a deep breath, but felt only a small bit of air filter through his nose. He blankly stared forward for a while, contemplating on this new discovery. Breathing without breathing, maybe he should have paid more attention in his science classes. Hanzo would certainly agree…

Genji’s expression fell at the thought of his brother. Did Hanzo even know he was alive? He shrank back in his chair and looked down. The pain from his still healing wounds amplified, and the hallway was filled with the sound of his own heavily beating heart until he became a shrinking ball of fear. A hand lightly touched his forehead causing his entire body to immediately go tense in defense.

 

“Are you okay, Mr. Shimada?” The wheelchair halted once more and Angela crouched in front of him, worry lining her gentle features.

Genji blinked a couple times before his mind registered who Angela was then he shut his eyes for a moment. He was in a good place now. There weren't any murderers here, he was with Overwatch. Overwatch helped people, they were helping him. There was nothing to worry about, everyone--

Two hands held his face and gently forced his head up to meet two eyes of the purest color.

“Look at me,” Angela whispered.

Genji stared at her with the widest most terrified eyes, he'd seen a lot in the past twenty years. But the doctor was insistent that he looked at herself only. And so he looked into her face, taking in both the beauty and sincerity held there, it calmed him down a bit. He took a mental deep breath.

_Forget everything. You're in a hallway, you’re in Switzerland. You are far away from them._

His eyes closed tightly again until he heard her speak.

“Genji,” she began, becoming informal in hopes of making him feel more comfortable. “I know you have been through a lot, but all of that is behind us now. You don't have to remember what happened, you do not have to remember who did it. Just know that we care, _I_ care. Here at Overwatch we are diverse and kind. Anybody who joins our ranks is a part of our family, and we fiercely protect each other. No one falls behind, not even the weakest man or woman. All of us are not warriors, either. Some of us are doctors or scientists, just like me and a very friendly ape you ought to meet. Genji, when you need me I will be here. If memories haunt you, taunt you, torture you, talk to me. You have no need to suffer alone. Now, how about some food?”

Tears welled up in the young man’s eyes, but they were more of happiness than sadness. Surely, these people were better. He nodded his head at the mention of food, and Angela stood up, giving him a light pat on the head and returning to pushing the wheelchair.

There was an unspoken agreement between the two that silence did no good, so Dr. Ziegler began to tell some humorous stories about her life in Overwatch

 

\-----

 

“...And so while we were trying to remove it, Winston kept sneaking the peanut butter out and eating it. Then, when he had finished the jar, he decided it was a good idea and take off the peanut butter we were using on his hair. So by the end we were left with a sticky gorilla and nothing to take the gum out with. Gabriel and Jesse are brilliant at pulling pranks, and Winston accidentally joined in.”

Angela let out a sweet laugh at the end of her story, and in perfect timing they arrived at the cafeteria. It was very open, the walls surrounding the area were almost purely made of glass.

When he passed the doors, Genji realized that no one else was here except for a couple of people who were intently tapping away on laptops. Angela parked him next to a table and told him to wait while she grabbed the food.

Genji, now knowing he would finally be able to take the mask off, decided to use his left hand to try and find some sort of releasing mechanism again. He dared not bring his arm too far back in fear of opening his wounds or harming himself on accident.

His hand glided across a sort of vent on the back of his head where it felt like air was being drawn in. That was probably how he was breathing right now, even if it didn't really feel like he was. His hand then moved towards the area behind his ear, that was probably where the opening mechanism was. A small indent caught his attention near the lower jaw, and he found next to it a little lever. He checked the other side and found the same indent, but not a lever. At that time Dr. Ziegler came back with a cup and steaming bowl of soup. Genji quickly dropped his hand to the table as the doctor gave him a questioning look, but she didn't press him about it. Instead, she put her hands on the mask and instructed him on what he needed to do.

 

“Alright, I will disengage the mask piece, and when I do, take deep breaths. Start taking them now to get a rhythm, because when I remove it it may feel like you’re choking. A rhythm will help you keep a steady breathing pattern. Okay, ready?”

Genji nodded, making sure his entire body was relaxed. _Don't think of anything._

“Three… Two… One.”

Dr. Ziegler’s hands pressed in the same area he had been touching before, causing the mask to silently pop off. Air rushed in to fill the empty space, and Genji certainly felt the choking sensation the doctor spoke of. He dared not open his mouth and simply breathed through his nose, nostrils stinging from the sudden cold air. His hand clamped over his nose as he felt the urge to sneeze, and the movement alarmed the doctor, making her think he couldn't breathe. He let go as soon as she came to help, and they had an awkwardly silent moment as each tried to figure out what the other was doing. Genji tried to speak, but only experienced pain as a little squeak came out.

This time Angela didn't have to wonder. “I wouldn't suggest speaking, Mr. Shimada. Your neck wound is still recovering, and your jaw is… well, in bad condition.”

Genji gently brushed his hand under his mouth. A smooth metal plate coated the bottom and he felt a long scar running under his chin. He gave Angela a questioning glance, he never remembered gaining that.

 

“We had to replace and support part of the bone, a scar is the only real side effect,” she gently explained. “If you’re done, however, perhaps you’d like to eat? I only suggest you don't be hasty, and don't over extend your jaw.”

Genji nodded his understanding. He finally noticed that he also seemed to be breathing normally and that the artificial breathing system seemed to lower the amount of airflow so that he felt more comfortable. Skimming the soup into his spoon, Genji gently opened his mouth so that the gap was big enough to only let the liquid slide in. The new warmth made him relax from his tense and weary stature, and the discovery that swallowing only felt a little bit awkward, led him to eat--or rather drink--his food vigorously. His stomach gave a grateful growl as he continued, and when he finished he felt heavy, but satisfied. He let out a low sigh of happiness and sat back in the chair, wrapping himself in the blanket the doctor had given him. Now he had the time to look through the giant window before him and enjoy the beauty of Switzerland. Looking beyond the sidewalks and various buildings there were miles on end of snowcapped mountains and rolling hills of golds and greens. Tall, skinny trees that looked almost like bushes occasionally dotted the area, and to the supposed east there were countless pine trees creating a forest that shone of the sun’s light.

“It’s beautiful, isn't it?”

Genji’s head snapped to the side. He hadn't noticed Angela sit in the chair and watch the rising sun with him. However, he easily sat back and looked through the window again, nodding.

“I feel very lucky to have been born here. All throughout this area it is the most beautiful of Europe, but Switzerland has the best chocolate. You should try it sometime,” She turned her head to him and cleaned up his empty dishes. “Unfortunately, we must leave the scenery for later. I’d like you to meet someone today.”

Genji, with a content stomach, gave the mask a questioning glance. Would he have to continue wearing it? Angela gave him a little sigh of pity and nodded.

“I know it’s not the nicest thing to wear, but so that you remain stable we must keep it on as much as possible.” The doctor reached for the mask and gently held Genji’s head to put it back in place. He didn't move or reject it, but his face still showed dislike. Once it was back in place, he felt the choking sensation again as air was automatically transferred to him and he didn't have the ability to actually breathe in most of the air. Trying to get used to it, he sat back in the wheelchair and relaxed himself.

It apparently worked because he found Dr. Ziegler shaking his shoulder for the second time this morning. He lazily opened his eyes, trying to pry them open and wake himself up. Did he manage to doze off? Peeling himself off the back of the chair, he removed the blanket from his shoulders. Before looking at his surroundings with still lazy eyes, he went to stretch his back, but cringed when his wounds felt like they were being stretched open. With pain to wake him up fully, he looked ahead at their next destination.

The plaque read ‘ _Observation Deck_ ’ and had a rather large pair of double doors which would easily swing open upon pressure.

Dr. Ziegler, satisfied that Genji was now awake, opened one door and pushed him through. It was a rather interesting room. The observation part was obvious, they were clearly in an overhanging room with windows to look down on some sort of presumed testing room. However, the rest was a bit confusing. On his left were several screens showing the physical health of the members of Overwatch? Maybe. There was a man there dressed similarly to Dr. Ziegler, and on the right was--

_Oh shit. What the fuck is that?_


	5. When The Moon Is Full

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “So,” Hanzo began in a conversational tone. “We tried this the passive way, but we’re not getting a whole lot of talk from you. And I’ll tell you what, I need this information fast before your government friends start getting into the clan’s and my business. I have a suggestion for you, Yamamoto Hiro, how about you tell me everything before we get messy.”

  

**When The Moon Is Full**

**[Hanzo 2]**

This was perhaps the one of the easiest missions he would ever experience. Hanzo only needed one man, preferably someone of power who wouldn't be missed for too long, or perhaps forever. His mission was to abduct and interrogate someone from the government. Recently, a private affair had been going on between someone in his clan and the Japanese government. The worst part was that they’d had a betrayal. Perhaps long ago,  _ Genji-- _ the name still struggled to form in his thoughts and tongue--had begun to rub off on one of their cousins, causing them to think of something outside of their family’s business. Whether they had thought so much on their own to betray them and release information to the authorities, he could only guess. At least it was a private transaction, publicity would have been an even bigger threat.

Now, with the cooperative help of someone in the National Diet Building, they would find out who did such a thing and decide the course of the clan from there. 

It was ten at night. Through his informants he’d received the information of tonight’s overtime workers. Yamamoto Hiro, a member of the House of Councillors, was staying for tonight, as well as a few other members of the council. However, they decided to ignore the rest and Yamamoto was decided as the main target. Hanzo casually stood by the pillars of the main entrance. These days your main problem wasn’t the guards, it was the cameras. His face was fully covered, as was the rest of his body, to make sure no recognition could be found. Another tactic that was carefully practiced was to avoid eye contact with the cameras. The slightest glance at them will give security all the information they need, the smallest thing can lead to your demise, especially for a situation this dire. If they were to catch him in action there would be further evidence of the Shimada Clan’s misdeeds.

Hanzo’s eyes darted around the right area of the government building. There were several exits the man could use. The one he watched from, a small door only a few hundred meters away, and a set of double doors all the way on the other side of the building. He silently waited, watching for the moment that would mark someone as leaving the building. A small voice picked up and spoke through the comm set in his ear. 

_ “He’s leaving, middle door.” _

 

Hanzo gave a small word of acknowledgement and ghosted towards the presumed exit Yamamoto would take. A short minute later, he heard and saw the door open, silhouetting his target in a soft yellow light. Hanzo silently glared at the man from a safe distance, for he was talking on his phone, making him temporarily invulnerable. The assassin waited until the rushed apologizing was over and the man had pocketed his phone before making a move. 

With swift yet silent steps, he crossed the parking lot and followed Yamamoto like a shadow until the man reached his car. Before his hand could even grasp the keys in his pocket, Hanzo wrapped an arm around his neck and dragged him down. The poor man barely gave a fight before running out of breath and collapsing under the younger man’s grip. 

_ Pathetic,  _ he thought looking down at the unconscious body. Having completed the first part of the job, Hanzo whispered into his comm.

_ “Target secured. I’ll be there in five.” _

 

Whether it would actually take that little time, he didn't know, but it was the best estimate. He started off by relieving any electronical devices from the councillor’s person. The less ways to track him the better. When it came to the his phone, he inserted a device into the charging slot which would extract any, and nearly all, information from the phone. To discard the rest of the items, he opened the car, tossed them in, and locked it. When the headlights turned off and the world was plunged into darkness once more, Hanzo lifted up the body and tossed it over his shoulder. There was no need to be careful with the package. 

He crossed the parking lot without trouble, and waited by the road for a good minute before he darted across without fear of passing cars. For another few minutes he crept through the park directly across from the building. At this time there shouldn't be anyone here, but he still came across a group of teenagers who were supposedly trying to be cool and do whatever was illegal just for the fun of it. Surprisingly there was also an omnic among them, usually the machines didn't break the law for the fun of it since they had nothing to break. Fortunately they didn't cross his path, although he wouldn't have minded beating them up for being idiots.

Putting those thoughts aside, he made his way to the end of the park and found his comrades sitting inside a car hidden in the overhang of several trees. They silently helped him fit the man in the car and offered Hanzo to sit up front as one of them trussed their prisoner. 

The car started and Hanzo allowed himself to relax in his seat. After pulling down his mask and hood, he watched the slowly darkening city of Tokyo pass by. 

The ride was silent between the three men. Of course they all knew each other well, but in the dimly lit night, no one felt the need to speak.

It would normally be a two and a half hour ride back to Hanamura, but due to the need to keep secrecy, several detours were made to confuse traffic cameras and added an extra half hour to the ride. 

Hanzo took the liberty to take a small nap in the middle of it. After all, he didn't have much else to do.

 

At one in the morning, still cloaked by the night, the trio and hostage arrived at the gates of the castle. They parked in a small cul-de-sac across from Rikimaru and dragged Yamamoto Hiro with them inside the clan’s grounds. As soon as they passed the grand entrance, however, Hanzo seemed to remember something. For a long moment he stared into the blank space of night. With a hand he absently waved away his comrades.

“You know where to put him, I have to do something before the night is done.”

 

The two exchanged questioning glances which were lost in the dark, but followed orders. Hanzo waited by the stairs until he could no longer see the smallest smudge of them, then made his way up. 

No one else was awake at this time except for the few sentries they had spread out, but they seemed like they wanted to fall asleep as well. He didn't particularly like that they weren't fully aware, but at the same time he sympathized with their weariness. Passing the nearest guard without a word, he came around to the small building where he climbed a short wall then jumped to grab the singled roof. Lifting himself up with arms alone, he stood in the center of the building’s flat roof.

Above him a proud full moon rested in the sky. It had been exactly one month since his brother’s death, and now that same moon threatened to haunt him for the remainder of the night. With a soundless sigh he sat on his knees before the shining white celestial. 

Sleep didn't feel like an option on this night. When he had tried to take a nap in the car it had only resulted in him reexperiencing the things of the past. He remembered sweat threatening to drench him and fighting the urge to freak out in front of his family. 

A small breeze passed by, and his heart started fluttering. The fall’s dry air wrapped around him, drying his throat and making him colder. It felt like an otherworldly presence was watching him, forcing him to suffer and  _ remember _ . Hanzo’s eyes darted back and forth, looking down upon the city then back in the castle walls, they were searching for something that might solve a problem. But what’s the point in searching for a solution when you don’t know the problem?

_ Exactly, because there is no problem _ , Hanzo thought,  _ I’m doing this to myself. _

He looked down at his hands, then settled down, resting on his knees.

Meditation was the only thing that allowed him to feel at peace other than constant distraction. Soon his mind began to calm, and a second wind washed over him without consequence this time. 

For a long moment he felt at peace, finding a way to be content. His mind was clear, relaxed, knowing what mistakes he had made but still knowing that what had been done was done. Forget the past, think about the future. 

But a third breath of wind came, followed by the whisper of a familiar voice. 

“ _ Hanzo, I’m scared,”  _ it seemed to say. He lost composure at that moment and his eyes shot open. All he wanted to say was a simple word, “Genji,” but he choked on his own tongue and ended up just glancing behind himself as if hoping to see his brother. There was no one there of course, and Hanzo’s stomach sank. Those were the last words he had ever heard his brother say, and every day they haunted him. Whenever he was alone something would whisper in his ear, force him to listen, and echo to no end.

Why had he even come up here? To force himself to suffer, to remember once again what happened, to understand the pain he felt? He’d accomplished nothing in these few short minutes of meditation. 

While standing up, a shadow passed over him and the leaves shook below. In his stressed state, rather than taking it for a simple cloud, and a breeze in the trees, he saw Genji. The flash of a shade frightened the already depressed young man and served him no good. His mind grew dizzy from the sudden panic as he forced himself to stand up. The sound of his back popping caught him unawares and he was cast back into the temple. He was forced to relive the moment where he had improvised without his weapon and nearly broke his brother’s back with bare hands.

Hanzo stumbled back into reality, covering his face with shameful hands.

_ What have I done? _

That one thought was repeated over and over again in his head as he jumped down from the building and hastily retreated to his house on the other side of the castle’s grounds. 

Upon approaching his house he became very weary and with a loud yawn his regretful thoughts were tossed to the side. Sleep was more important and irresistible.

 

\-----

 

No need for alarm clocks. Nightmares or no, Hanzo’s body was trained to always wake up around six in the morning on normal days. The morning felt good, the sun washed over his skin releasing a pleasant warmth, and the laziness in the air held gave him a sense of peacefulness. It was a stark, but welcome, contrast from what he had felt only last night. He dared not to let go of his good mood by thinking of what happened only hours ago. Instead, he only thought of the important details of last night and how it was now his job to create and carry out commands as the master of the Shimada Clan. It was still a new concept, and despite being trained and told what he would do, he was still used to being  _ told what to do _ . That was how it usually was. Yes, he was allowed to carry out orders and create them--with his father’s consent, of course--but having the full liberty and burden of this was different. 

 

_ Worry about it later _ , he thought to himself to dismiss any stress he felt. Hanzo knew what needed to be done right now with the interrogation of their new friend Hiro, and prepared himself for the day ahead.

 

He met privately with Hiro in an interrogation room, dressed in clothes he wouldn't mind getting dirty, but still looked somewhat formal. Outside the room sat one of his younger cousins, Sakura. She was a fair lady, beautiful in many aspects, and she often helped the clan by wooing men into doing what they needed.

 

When it came to the methods of interrogation, the Shimada Clan had never resorted to violence and torture immediately. This was so they could better hide evidence of them committing what--to the authorities--was a crime, and also so that they might not waste resources. They always started off with flattery, temptation--the main reason why he brought Sakura with him,-- gifts, and comfort. Research had shown that this usually received better responses from the captive and would convince the captive to share more truth than lie. Of course, after interrogation they usually couldn’t let the interrogated leave and would dispose of them by faking suicide. It was grim, but not as bad as the older methods.

 

Hanzo greeted his younger cousin and felt disapproving of her choice of clothing, but remembered it was really only for this job. She responded with a confident smile and greeting, ready to meet the captive when signaled. He stood before the door and took a deep breath, going through his head the deals and conversation he would want to bring up once more, then stepped inside. 

 

“Yamamoto Hiro,” he greeted, holding out his hand to shake. “As you may know I am Shimada Hanzo.”

 

Hiro nodded and shakily rose to his feet and grasped Hanzo’s hand, saying his own greetings. The man was untied and left to his own devices in the room. Of course the poor man had nothing but his clothes and the set of chairs, table, and glass of water they’d left him with, but they had at least tried to make it comfortable for an interrogation room.

 

Hanzo’s face was simply a mask of indifference as he sat down. He noticed the sweat that had already accumulated on the man’s forehead. This was going to be easy.

He made himself look business like, hands clasped on the table before him, ready to discuss.

 

“I have a small problem,” he slowly began. “You personally have nothing to do about this… predicament, but I know that you have information on it.”

 

Hanzo glanced up at Hiro, acting as if he was in deep thought when he had truly already thought of all this beforehand. His calm eyes met Hiro’s still terrified eyes, but the man nodded.

 

“Just a few weeks ago, one of the members of the Shimada Clan came to the authorities and spilled some personal information about us,” he spread his arms out to emphasize the size of his organization. Hiro seemed to calm down just a bit. “All I want to know is what they said and who said it. I’m told that your position in the government means you know some of this information.”

 

Shaky hands grabbed the glass of water as Hiro went to take a sip and soften his dry throat so he could actually speak. Hanzo realizing that it would take him a bit to begin talking, added a small bribe to his question. 

“If you could give me this information, I would be very appreciative of your contribution and would be happy to toss you a few million yen or so, I was thinking maybe ten? And if you need a trip back to Tokyo I’d be happy to give you a nice service.”

 

Hiro’s face lightened up at this offer, and the man seemed to regain some confidence. Hanzo had a mental cheer of triumph at this. However, the captive’s face fell, and Hanzo frowned. 

 

“Is something wrong?” he asked, earning the first croaking words from Mr. Yamamoto.

 

“W-Well,” the nervous man began, tripping over his first word. “ _ Ahem _ . Well, by the rules and oaths we take for our jobs, we are restrained from speaking of current matters such as this one until decisions are made, carried out, and enough time passes by for the matter to be irrelevant.”

 

Hanzo furrowed his brow.

“Oh, is that so? How unfortunate, is there no way we can bypass this? Perhaps only part of this incident is confidential. What details could you possibly give me?”

 

Hiro continued to decline Hanzo by shaking his head. “There is nothing I can tell you, unfortunately.” Then the man let forth a bit of his bravery. “Now, may I kindly return home?”

 

The young master gave the man a thoughtful look. He’d already prepared for that kind of answer and stood up, actually making Hiro cringe back like he was about to be punished. Hanzo didn’t seem to acknowledge it and only spoke.

“Perhaps. Would you give me a moment?” Hanzo paused to add more. “ Maybe my cousin could entertain you while I’m absent.” 

The way he had to use entertain in the sentence kind of bothered him. Many men, including Genji at one time, found women to be great  _ entertainment, _ and Hanzo for whatever reason couldn’t understand what was so enticing about watching them and having sex.

 

He left the room and signaled to Sakura that she could go in. Hanzo went to sit in front of the control panel and hidden window, which meant he could watch all that happened inside the room. Of course, nothing explicit happened, but he did cringe a little bit as he watched what was happening. On his young cousin’s consent, she would help him with the interrogation by seducing the man if needed. He’d always known that in her early years she had been very shy and timid. However, due to hard training, she had grown into a confident young woman who knew how to defend herself and get what she wanted through her expert acting. Now Hanzo watched her use that once shy side as an easy act to get the information he needed.

 

They built a “relationship,” if it could even be called that. Sakura subtly showed her more enticing features from afar, and slowly grew closer. The shy attitude she used built up Hiro’s own confidence, and soon they seemed comfortable with each other.

Her composure was unmatchable, and she wasn’t afraid to show more of her body when they were closer. A conversation was eventually sparked, and Hanzo finally grew interested in what was happening in the room. Although, admittedly, it was awkward for him to listen and watch.

 

\-----

 

“What’s your name, young girl?” Hiro asked whilst grabbing her. Sakura didn’t show her surprise, but inwardly she was angered that the man treated her with disrespect. Instead, she shyly looked into her victim’s eyes and quiety muttered. “Sakura, sir”

 

Hiro’s eyes darted across the room, he spotted no windows and only one door which he spotted a way to lock. Of course, he didn’t know the lock was actually a fake and that the only way to secure the door was from the outside. It was one of the small techniques they used to make the interrogated feel more comfortable.

Both Hanzo and Sakura knew the intentions of the man, and neither did anything to stop him from approaching the door and using the fake lock. Hiro, now completely confident due to the absence of the naturally intimidating Hanzo and in the presence of a seemingly helpless woman, walked towards the chair Sakura now sat in.

 

“I don’t see anyone here that will be able to interrupt us, why don’t we have some fun?” The man, who had a wife and children, spoke maliciously in the voice that made Hanzo want to barge into the room and strangle him for even thinking such things near his cousin. But as always, he reminded himself she was able to take care of herself.

 

In the interrogation room, the acting shy and timid Sakura seemed to spring to life while still giving off the vibe that she was unsure and unsteady. 

“If-if you truly wish, master.” she mumbled, head bowed as she stood up and also approached. 

The use of the word ‘master’ only fueled Hiro’s thoughts and worked as intended. He gently grabbed her chin and brought it up to look at him. A silent word seemed to be shared between them, and Sakura rubbed her chest against his, pressing her lips to his face and giving him the small pleasures he desired.

 

Hanzo decided at this point to look away, both disgusted and embarrassed by their smut. He only listened for a few minutes as Sakura did her job, wishing that she could pry information in a quicker fashion. Call him mad, but he prefered the torture version of interrogation. 

 

The next time he looked back, Hanzo flinched. The two were both sitting in the same chair, Sakura flaunted on top of Hiro, shirt opened to reveal her rather scanty bra while Hiro pressed her against him.

She whispered something in his ear that the microphones couldn’t pick up, and surprise shot onto Hiro’s previously satisfied but wanting face. Hanzo gave a small sigh of relief, maybe she was finally going to pry something from him, and watched as the captive seemed to be on the verge of saying something in their cringe worthy conversation.

 

“I told you a secret, so maybe… you could give me one too? Just something between us, nobody else has to know,” She leaned deeper into the man, a shy smile on her face. “I think I’m really interested in the little Shimada secrets, but if that’s not something you want then… You don’t  _ have  _ to do it.”

 

Sakura pouted her lip and widened her eyes to look as if she was going to cry if she didn’t get her secret. Hiro, although very enticed by the young woman, bit his lip, hesitating. She leaned in, breasts rubbing against his side, and hands trailing across his chest. 

“Maybe we can even grab an empty room later tonight…? Steal away in the dark, just you… and me… I only want a little secret first, to know that you truly care about me.”

 

The man’s tongue finally slipped in hopes of spending a night in bed with Hanzo’s cousin. 

“Well, I suppose I can tell you something,” Sakura’s face lit up at his words, and her hands gently wrapped around his face, bringing it to be only a few inches away from her own. Hiro had no complaints. “We were told about the most recent deaths in the family, a way to exploit them. We’re thinking about trying to take all of them out for good, our informant also told us of your Hanzo’s mental state. It’s probably possible to take down one of the most threatening Yakuza’s we’ve had, we could even fake it as an accident, frame the kid and imprison him.”

 

Hiro’s eyes shined with his new discovery. When he went back home he’d have to pitch what he’d just now come up with. For now he was rewarded with another full kiss pressed on by Sakura, and her bare legs wrapped around his body. She made sure the kiss lasted for several seconds, not allowing Hiro to pull away, and in that time signalled to Hanzo that she was done. As a final tease, she pulled off his belt and made her way to pull down his pants before two quick raps on the door were heard.

“I’m coming in,” Hanzo stated, loud and clear.

 

Sakura pretended to be disappointed then buttoned and smoothed her shirt. She untangled herself from the now disappointed man and began to leave for the door.

“It’s locked, remember?” Hiro pleaded, hoping to get the woman back in his lap. 

“In a den of thieves and assassins, locks don’t mean a thing,” She replied, waiting for the door to open. Her last confident words surprised the subdued man and he just stared at her as she traded places with Hanzo. Noticing Hiro’s reaction, Hanzo inwardly cursed Sakura. He wouldn’t be able to use her again if he needed.

He entered, straight faced as usual, and didn’t seem to mind when Hiro hurriedly pulled his pants back up.

“I suppose you two had a pleasant time?” Hanzo asked with an audible sigh of impatience.

“Oh… well, yes. You have a very lovely cousin, I’d love to meet her again.”

“I’m sure you would,” Hanzo replied with a smile that twisted Hiro’s stomach in fear. “So, did you tell her anything I might like to hear? I’m still looking for information.”

“No,” Hiro straight up lied without a bit of hesitance. Impressive. “We simply had some time to bond.”

“I’m sure you did, but I’m not running a brothel. I need information, Yamamoto Hiro. I need it  _ now _ .” Something inside Hanzo seemed to have burst, not for the first time in the past month, and his anger seemed to cloud his patience. 

Hiro frowned and his eyes searched for some clue as to what the Shimada Clan’s leader might be thinking. Unfortunately, the thought of torturing answers out of him wasn’t something he came up with. “I cannot tell you anything, Shimada, these are the rules.”

 

“Well, perhaps I can tell  _ you  _ something, I’m getting tired of rules,” Hanzo spat. A single blow made up of Hanzo’s growing impatience caught Hiro over the head and plunged him into darkness

Normally after attempted seduction, he would continue to try to convince the victim a bit more, but Hanzo was getting tired of this shit. He didn’t want this interrogation to be dragged out, he’d get what he wanted this afternoon. After some lunch, of course. Hanzo’s stomach growled and he scowled in response, starting to secure Hiro so he would be ready for torture when he awoke.

When Hanzo left he locked the door and turned out the lights. If Hiro woke up in the time between his break, he’d be happy to get an extra scare out of the man. It’d make things easier, he thought with a grim smile.

 

\-----

 

Lunch consisted of a hastily made sandwich and bottle of water. While he had headed back to his house hoping to create something more of a relaxing meal, he received a call from his uncle. Despite Hanzo growing to have hateful thoughts towards him, he took the call in all seriousness, setting aside his feelings. And for good reason. The second he said ‘Hello,’ Hayato was quickly talking about an alarming event in great detail and urgency. As it seemed, their leaked information helped imprison one of their raiding parties, meant to retrieve illegal weapons from the coast. His uncle asked him to come by immediately, and so Hanzo stuffed what food he could in his mouth and washed it down with water. 

While he was running back to the castle, a humorous thought ran through his head. He had the feeling the young mage Khadgar from one of his books (and Genji’s games) had felt this same kind of rush with his own master, Medivh. Except, technically Hanzo was responding to a council of equal power instead. 

When he arrived, Hanzo made sure to make it look like he hadn’t been hurrying and calmly opened the doors to walk in on a discussion already happening. They exchanged greetings, and the moment Hanzo sat down, they filled him with what information they had obtained and discussed. 

As it turned out one of the members of the captured party had managed to escape undetected and relayed his information on the matter. Apparently what happened was that the authorities were told beforehand and managed to slip past the scouts they had sent out. So when they went to take the goods they were met with of force of armed officers ready to arrest with good reason and proof. There had been a struggle, but due to the escapee’s lack of action he was able to leave in the commotion. 

Hanzo asked why they were getting this information now, he remembered sending out the party last night, not in the morning. The council informed him that in his panic, the man hadn't thought to contact them before and only spoke when he had made it back and rested. Hanzo sighed a curse and rubbed a hand against his forehead in frustration. 

If the police had taken members of the clan prisoner that could only mean they would try to pry more information from them and try to get them to admit they were part of the Shimada Clan so that blame could be placed on them. They had all been trained for these kinds of situations, but that didn't quench Hanzo’s concerns. This was going terribly, he needed to get information out of his own prisoner immediately. 

Hanzo excused himself from the meeting, telling them that he still hadn't extracted all the information from Hiro yet. They let him go and told him they’d keep him updated with the conversation as they continued. Hanzo gave his thanks and left. While he approached the interrogation rooms, the constant thought on his mind was  _ who would tell them, why would they, and do we have a spy or a betrayer? _

He cleared his mind upon entering the dark room, he’d know soon enough. 

He turned on all the lights in the control room, but only the backlights of the room Hiro was in. Dramatic effect, it did a lot to convince weak people like Hiro to talk. 

He entered the room to confront a terrified and gagged Hiro. Hanzo put his grim face in the half light to make him look all the more threatening. For a while he simply stood over the desk, waiting for Hiro to calm down. He must admit, feeling in control for one moment then being restrained the next would be frightening. When Hiro stopped, Hanzo removed the gag. However, he only actually removed the padded mouthpiece and metal strainers from the mouth and let it dangle like a necklace. It was a warning, and Hiro seemed to understand that perfectly. The edges of his mouth were bleeding from the strain, and Hiro dryly licked his lips to relieve the pain. Hanzo moved back to stand in front of Hiro, then proceeded to remove a long knife from his belt and absently ran the sharp edge against his thumb. 

“So,” he began in a conversational tone. “We tried this the passive way, but we’re not getting a whole lot of talk from you. And I’ll tell you what, I need this information fast before your government friends start getting into the clan’s and my business. I have a suggestion for you, Yamamoto Hiro, how about you tell me  _ everything _ before we get messy.”

 

Hanzo noticed Hiro’s eyes darting all over his face for something, but the young man’s face was hard and set, and his eyes cold and unforgiving. Hiro sweat like a pig, and in front of him, his strapped hands shook like he was about to explode. The rest of his body jittered with them. However, despite his clearly horrified state, Hiro mustered up some courage. Probably by remembering some action movies he’d seen. 

“I-I won't tell yo-ou any-anything!” He managed, the weak voice he used made Hanzo pity him for a moment. Pity quickly turned into disappointment, though, seeing as Mr. Yamamoto here was stupid enough to deny him. 

 

“We both know you’re not strong enough to win an interrogation, not even one where I simply stood here and did nothing,” At this point Hanzo was using the knife to gesture, making Hiro more nervous from the ease that Hanzo could twist the sharpened blade.

“Let’s get to the point, Yamamoto. I’m going to bleed the answers from you,” Closing the space between them, Hanzo slowly approached. He leaned forward so that his head was merely inches away from Hiro’s.

“I once heard in a story that a leader and a man who wished to succeed him would take turns cutting their arms to prove their individual loyalty and commitment to their people. These leaders were of a powerful race and often bore deep scars leading to their shoulders. Unfortunately, this is only a story and there are no facts or statistics to tell us anything. Which also means I’m curious as to how many cuts a normal man can hold before bleeding to death. Let’s test it, shall we? You’ve got your honor and life on a thin line.”

Hanzo stepped to the side and slowly slid the cold blade across Hiro’s unprotected forearm. The tender flesh parted easily, and the man jerked his arm in a vain attempt to free his arm from its bindings. 

“One,” Hanzo counted, taking no pleasure it what he was doing.

He moved to the other arm and did the same, slowly cutting the forearm. Hiro jerked in response again, tears welled up in his eyes.

“Two.”

Switch to the other arm again, slice. Whimper of pain, twitchy limbs.

“Three.”

Switch, slice, vain attempt in getting free.

“Four.”

Switch, slice, cry of pain.

_ He’s surprisingly tough. _

“Five.”

Switch, slice, shout to stop. He started thrashing even harder at the bindings.

“Six.”

Each arm held three clean cuts, spewing fresh blood. It trickled down his arms, causing the pain to intensify as Hiro thought of the worst. 

Hanzo pressed his knife against the still intact skin.

“We don't have to continue, all you have to do is tell me what the betrayer said.”

“Go to hell,” Hiro said in a weak tone. Tears were streaming down his face now. 

“Wise words,” Hanzo sneered, not caring to mask his anger. The next cut was deeper and longer than the others, causing Hiro to squeal loudly. 

“Seven.”

He switched arms and gave a swift cut, glaring at Hiro and refusing to glance a way for even a moment. His mouth shaped the words, and his throat whispered them. 

_ “I will break you.” _

“Eight,” The original volume of his voice returned. 

At this point Hiro had run out of tears and only hung his head in hopelessness, sobbing to show his pain. Hanzo scowled, he had no wish to aid this idiot of a man, but if he was to speak, he needed to be able to talk. He wiped the blood off the knife with a spare rag and sheathed it, heading to a table in the back of the room. It had been moved there so it wouldn't separate the two of them. 

A water pitcher and cup stood on the table, both filled near to the brim. Hanzo picked up the cup and brought it back Hiro, pressing it to his lips. 

“Drink.” He commanded, and the prisoner had no complaint in obeying. Hiro sought to gulp the whole glass in mere seconds, but Hanzo restricted it to a slow trickle. When half the glass was done, he placed it on the floor.

Hiro’s still parched lips gave a grunt of complaint. His arms still twitched in pain, and he lay back in the chair, hissing in agony.

“Stop,” he groaned, “Please!”

Hanzo let out a frustrated sigh, rubbing his face to relieve the stress this man was giving him. “This could’ve been avoided if you just  _ talked. _ ” 

Taking out the knife again, he let the tip rest on Hiro’s chest.

“There are a lot more things I could do that would be more painful, mentally and physically. I’m doing you a favor, and maybe you can return it, a little less pain for a little more information. But if you  _ still _ don’t want to cooperate, well, it’s your problem not mine.”

Hiro let a small breath escape from his lips and looked down at the gashes in his arms. This situation could be a lot worse than now. He didn’t know whether to be relieved or terrified, but his thoughts were cut short by the knife now dragging across his chest leaving a red line which dripped down his shirt. 

It was slowly being brought around and about to arrive at his left shoulder. Hanzo watched the knife move, now bored from inactivity. 

“The clock is ticking,” he said slowly, glancing up at Hiro, “Do you have anything to say?”

“Alright! I’ll tell you, just stop doing that,” He yelped, interrupting the young man. The response had caught Hanzo surprised, and caused the blade to bite deep into its spot. Who knew silent people could talk so loudly?

Hanzo quickly recovered and removed the knife from Hiro’s breast, and moved to stand in front of him.

“And..?”

Majorly relieved by the removal of the weapon, Hiro became a chittering bird.

“It was the girl who came in here after you, your cousin. She told all of us about the Shimada Clan. The secrets, missions, your next strike points, what you’re taking in, what you have, who you are, and any of your weaknesses.”

_ Sakura would betray us? But wh--that’s what she was whispering in his ear earlier. A promise of escape if he just complied and gave information. The little bitch.  _ Hanzo didn’t mention any of his thoughts out loud, but asked about another interesting factor.

“Weaknesses and secrets. Like what?”

“She said that the former master died, that-that you’re the new one, and to become that you had to kill your brother, and you’re emotionally weak because of that. There was also Hayato Shimada who is looking forward to removing you from your position of power and is looking for opportunities like acting with us to frame you or something like that. And then she told us about the Blackwatch infiltrator and how we can use him to get more information, and other entrances and tunnels hidden all over the place. There’s an unguarded part of the castle, and the elders are growing much older and weaker…”

He continued talking for a good amount of time, and Hanzo tried not to show his growing anger as Hiro continued. At one point, he couldn’t seem to take anymore and his face twisted with hatred towards Sakura.

“Enough!” he shouted. And before he even knew what he was doing, his anger enveloped his mind and he grabbed the man, plunging the knife into the man’s stomach, the blade only stopping when it reached the hilt. After a second he stood back, surprised by his own actions this time. Hanzo didn’t bother removing the blade, and instead looked at Hiro’s face, a frozen look of terror looked back at him. He took a few deep breaths before assessing his victim’s situation. Obviously, by the fact that the knife was stuck in so deep, Hiro wouldn’t survive the internal bleeding, but it wouldn’t be an immediate death. The frozen face was merely the expression he had fainted with. However, he most likely wouldn’t wake up again to even know he was dying before it ended.

Hanzo cursed himself and left the room without a single look back. His mind was starting to act against his will. The anger he felt was always easily stowed away, a calm mask in its place if it ever came. He’d only had bursts of anger when he was going through puberty, and the one time he… A deep breath helped calm him down. The one time he killed Genji. Hanzo sighed and rubbed his face with one hand in regret. For a moment he grew extremely tired and his eyes refused to stay open for long.

Before leaving the building he took the audio files from his interrogation and downloaded them onto a flash drive for later use. 

 

Arriving home, Hanzo sat in the nearest chair and hung his head. He wanted to scream out, let all the anger, and stress, and regret, and  _ fear  _ out. Dragging one hand through his hair, he slipped off the hair tie and let all of it hang over his face. A scream attempted to leave his mouth, but all that came out was a gurgled sob. His hands covered his face and refused to let the light touch his eyes. Tears began to form in those eyes, sobbing escaped his mouth, and all he could do was angrily say “why?”

 

“Why? Why am I so angry? Why did I kill my brother? Why is my father dead? Why am I not ready for this? Why am I feeling stressed? Why do I feel pain when nothing’s wrong? Why is the world so cruel to me? Why am I surrounded by such people? Why? Somebody tell me why. Why,  _ why?” _

 

The doorbell rang, and Hanzo peeked out from behind his fingers. It didn’t matter who it was.

“Leave!” he shouted at the door, “Leave! Whatever you have to say, save it or lose your tongue!”

His eyes glared at the door for a moment, then softened when he realized this was exactly his problem.

tion and downloaded them onto a flashdrive for later use.

Arriving home, Hanzo sat in the nearest chair and hung his head. He wanted to scream out, let all the anger, and stress, and regret, and fear out. Dragging one hand through his hair, he slipped off the hair tie and let all of it hang over his face. A scream attempted to leave his mouth, but all that came out was a gurgled sob. His hands covered his face and refused to let the light touch his eyes. Tears began to form in those eyes, sobbing escaped his mouth, and all he could do was angrily say “why?”

“Why? Why am I so angry? Why did I kill my brother? Why is my father dead? Why am I not ready for this? Why am I feeling stressed? Why do I feel pain when nothing’s wrong? Why is the world so cruel to me? Why am I surrounded by such people? Why? Somebody tell me why. Why, why?”

The doorbell rang, and Hanzo peeked out from behind his fingers. It didn’t matter who it was.  
“Leave!” he shouted at the door, “Leave! Whatever you have to say, save it or lose your tongue!”  
His eyes glared at the door for a moment, then softened when he realized this was exactly his problem.


	6. It Begins To Wane

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You are a Shimada, a member of one of the most notorious organizations--”  
> “And a member of the clan killed one of their own and you want to know why so you can try to exploit them.” Genji finished.  
> Angela meant to say it in a much lighter tone, but there was no way to deny what he said. “Well, yes.”  
> “I’m in.”

**It Begins To Wane**

**[Genji 3]**

 

“Winston, this is our newest patient, Mr. Shimada,” Angela said, rolling the almost overwhelmed young man inside the room. “I believe it’s time you might properly meet him.”

The enormous, white dressed gorilla turned in his seat and adjusted a pair of… glasses? sitting on his nose. “Ah, I see you’re well enough to get out of that bed now. Thinking of bed must make you sick now,” Winston laughed. “I’m Winston, one of the scientists at Overwatch, a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Shimada.”

A large, dark hand reached out in front of Genji, and reluctantly, he took it with his left hand. The gorilla gave him a smile, “Well, I suppose we’ll be able to talk more in the future. Best you two be on your way to meet everyone else!”

He turned back around and Angela said farewell, beginning to leave with her patient.

“Oh- and Angela?” Winston twisted around once more, holding the doctor’s attention. “I’ll need you to come by later, I’ve found a flaw in the experiment that you need to help me with.”

She gave a simple nod. “Of course, I’ll see you later. Two or three hours maybe?”

They then proceeded to leave the observation deck. Genji gave Angela a curious look, hoping to find out what their experiment was. But to his disappointment, the doctor only gave him a kind smile, oblivious to his expression. She led them back to what Genji was now starting to call home. After the short struggle of getting Genji on the bed, he shifted himself into a comfortable position, allowing him to sink into the pillowy depths. Angela didn't leave him just yet though. He lost the first few words, spacing out, but got the general gist and inwardly groaned, straightening his position in the bed. As had apparently happened everyday, Dr. Ziegler had to check his wounds. After removing his shirt, she had begun to prod around his wounds and Genji couldn't help but squirm beneath her cold fingers. He tried to look at what the doctor was touching, but the mask prohibited most of his vision. He could, however, see that there was a large red stripe over his abdomen stitched together by thread and that his remaining arm seemed to be lacerated with old scars and new cuts alike. Pain he had previously seemed to forget seeped into his bones and made him squirm uncomfortably. It steadily grew, becoming near unbearable as the doctor temporarily stepped away. The pain seemed to specifically originate from his stomach wounds, and those that lacerated his chest contracted, making breathing difficult. Genji curled into a loose ball, tears threatening to form in his eyes. He wanted it to stop hurting. Ziegler came back, a small device in her hand. She gave a light gasp and apologized for his pain. 

“Genji, I need you to lay straight again.” She said, resting a gloved hand on his shoulder. “I promise I’ll make most of the pain go away, if it still hurts I’ll get you more pain killers.”

He glanced briefly at the doctor, the pain reflecting in his eyes, then buried his head deeper into the pillow. Angela sighed and tried to push his shoulder flat. She was met with steel resistance and could barely move her patient. 

“Genji, I can't help unless you lay flat. If needed I’ll bring someone in and force you, that’ll hurt more than just turning over.”

Genji lifted his head a little to give a small glare, and carefully rolled himself around, exposing his arm and body. His eyes were still wet, and he blinked away the forming tears.

“Thank you.” She gave him a light smile then turned on her device. From it, yellow nanites swarmed out forming a small, ever-moving cloud underneath. The doctor moved the device slowly over Genji’s left arm. The result was almost instant. The device knit his wounds together as if they were causing the healing process to speed by, and indeed they were doing just that. Unfortunately, that didn't stop the scarring process, and every wound still left a mark. 

Genji marveled at the fact that suddenly there was simply little to no pain left. His arm was simply warm. He flexed the muscles a bit, and although it felt some what tight, it still felt a whole lot better. 

While he was marveling, Angela took the chance to go over most of the other smaller wounds, making sure to also check his back. The bigger wounds she would have to save for later, including the spinal damage.

“Great job. Rest for a while, I’ll see you for lunch and dinner, but you’ll be left alone for the rest of the day. Simply contact someone if you need something,” Angela said, tapping the tablet which still lay on a side table. 

Genji nodded, it was really the only thing he could do with one working limb and the inability to move his jaw. The doctor cast him another smile and left the room. 

\-----

He lay there for an hour in silence, staring at the ceiling. Genji had nothing to do for at least a day. Truly, there was no worse torture. 

He couldn't even sigh because of his stupid mask. His eyes snapped down to the contraption on his face. That gave him an idea. 

Genji spent at least another hour trying to get the damned mask off his face with only one hand and the various objects around him. At first he tried to simply use one hand, attempting to stretch his hand over the distance of his jaw. It didn't work. His fingers weren't long enough to reach the buttons. He then attempted to balance the tablet, press one button with the corner and press the other with his hand. That also failed, along with his attempt to use the corner of the table. He gave an inward sigh and gave up, deciding to sleep again. 

 

That was how the rest of the day went. 

And the next.

And the next.

And the next.

Mind numbing and painful, life draining. 

Not to mention the lack of simple sleep, untouched by nightmares.

  
  


The fifth day was different. 

Very different.

The morning started the same way as the day before. A late morning tour, some food, and being left alone in the recovery room. It promised to be a stale day. 

But it wasn't.

It was worse. 

On the brink of falling asleep again, Genji was startled by the doors bursting open to allow a new patient in. He tried to prop himself up and catch a glimpse of the newcomer, but he found himself unable to support himself with only an arm. He did manage to catch the mumbling of a half conscious man, though. 

_ “Wh-why can’t I..? My, my leg. I can't feel… Where am-where is? My… my, where?” _

Clearly the man had lost a leg. Genji’s fingers found themselves wrapped around the plastic cup which encased the stub of his former arm. He felt a tug of sympathy for the man, the loss of any limb was a hard one. A ghost of pain haunted him for a moment, the scene in which he’d lost him arm replayed in his mind. His eyes trailed the nurse as he passed by with the bed and pushed it behind a white curtain. He stared at the folds of cloth for a long while, wishing to catch just a glimpse of the man. However, he found himself jolting awake from an accidental nap. Genji frowned at the curtain, everything seemed quiet now, then he heard soft footsteps. Emerging from the curtain was Dr. Ziegler. 

Noticing that Genji was awake she cast him a small greeting. “Mr. Shimada, for a while you’ll be experiencing the company of a neighbor,” she gestured to the shadow of a sleeping figure. “I’d like to ask that you do not pull back the curtain for the privacy of both you and Hans--”

The doctor was cut off by Genji’s sudden and erratic behavior. His head had jerked up at full attention, and his hand scrambled for the left side of the bed. Frantic eyes darted to the closed curtains, and with the help of his upper body strength, Genji managed to slide onto the floor. At this point, Ziegler tried to take action. She hastily dropped her papers on the bed and rushed to Genji’s side. 

“Mr. Shimada, would you please--” She was trying to get a hold of the man without harming him and formality was dropped without a moment of hesitation. “Genji, what is wrong!”

 

One word was running through his head as he grasped the side of the bed.

_ No, no no nononononono. _

He was trying to stand up, to get away. She’d said Hanzo, right? His brother was on the other side of that curtain, just a few feet away. Coming back to make sure he was well and truly dead. But his legs, they just wouldn't…. He couldn't get them to work, they couldn't--couldn't do  _ anything!  _ Someone tried to stop him, grab him, but he twisted away and swatted the arm. He couldn't register the words being said, and he didn't care.

_ Just get away. Get away, get away! _

He’d given up on standing up, and was using the nearby furniture to drag himself to the wheelchair. It was so close, he could almost use it. Get away from this place as far as possible, never see his brother or the clan and never hear them ever again. He would be safe.

 

Angela winced as Genji seemed to twist her arm out of its socket in defense. After a moment of thought, she gave credit that her patient was, in fact, an assassin. He wouldn't give up without a fight, even while worming himself across the floor. 

She moved to the side of the door, and tapping a quick number, accessed the communication device.

“I trust you’re not doing anything important at the moment. If you could help me restrain a patient, I’d be very thankful. Ah, danke schön.”

It only took a few seconds for her backup to arrive. Gabriel Reyes walked through door, at first seeing nothing out of order, but then happening to glance down. 

“I can't get near him without getting my arm scratched or pulled out, and I don't want to hurt him,” Angela started explaining. “He doesn't seem to be focused on the world around him either, I’m afraid he’s starting to go into the pyscholo--”

 

Gabriel interrupted her with a raised hand. “Save me the science, doc. Just tell me what you want done.”

She cast a quick glance at the struggling figure. “Just, pick him up firmly but gently. Avoid his abdomen, the armpits would probably be best. If you could also try to snap him out of this trance with a bit of… roughing up, that would be good.”

“Can do, sister.”

Reyes walked over to the crawling figure. It was a sad and pathetic sight to see, a young man trying to crawl with one arm and two legs that didn't work. 

“Alright, up we go,” he muttered, and reached down to pick up Genji by his arm and what was left of the other. The young man retaliated by twisting himself out of grasp and clawing at Reyes’ arm. “Kid’s a biter,” he commented before catching Genji and lifting him over his shoulder before anything else could happen. Genji still attempted to squirm away, unwilling to face what he thought was a second death, but Reyes held a firm grip. Careful not to simply toss Angela’s patient, he set Genji on the bed. Then it was time for sense. He grabbed a handful of hair and yanked on it, causing tears to swell in the younger man’s eyes.

“Hey!” Reyes shouted in Genji’s face. “Cut it out kid, where do you think you are, a mad house? We’re not running that kind of place here. You listen to the doctor and you stay where you’re asked to, got it?”

Genji still squirmed beneath his grip, but his eyes seemed to finally focus and he was able to coordinate his actions better. 

The young man’s brow twisted with annoyance, and with a subtle twist, he’d grabbed Reyes’ wrist and forced his hand to open. The latter’s hand made a hasty retreat, and Genji combed his hair back as if nothing had happened. 

 

“Where’d he learn to do that?” Gabriel looked at his hand in surprise. If he were honest with himself, the kid’s trick had just hurt his pride. One of the things he’d always boasted about was his extremely strong grip.

Angela bit her lip. “He’s had…. Training. If you don't mind waiting outside, I might have something interesting to show you.”

Gabriel nodded his head and left, taking a last glance of curiosity at Genji. The now tame patient shifted in bed. The expression he wore was neither of his previous fear or annoyance, it was confusion. With his one hand he rubbed his eyes, running through his mind on what he’d just done. His head felt very warm, in fact, his whole body did. His thoughts swam and he couldn't focus on anything. He blinked several times, trying to focus on the doctor. 

_ Wait…  _

His eyes darted to the left side of his bed. It was empty now. Wasn't there someone there before? Someone had picked him up then pulled his hair, and talked about…. No, asked a question?

Across the room Angela had procured a water bottle. She put a light hand on his forehead and found it to be burning underneath. And no wonder, for the longest time she had noticed this but never found the source, but after Gabriel had picked him up she’d seen the roots of the problem. On the back of his legs were tendrils of purple and black,causing his calves and feet to look almost dead. And of course the poor man had also created his own mental fever which was spreading and affecting his physical health as well. That wasn't an unusual problem, and she was usually able to treat it immediately, but she didn't know anything about what was causing the infection in his legs.

Angela helped Genji to sit up straight then instructed him the same way she had everyday for some time.

“I’m taking off the mask, take deep breaths.”

Genji looked like he was about to fall asleep, but Angela could still see his conscious effort to abide through his chest. Setting down the water, she pressed her fingers into place and allowed the mask to fall into her hands. A short choke followed after, but as always, his breathing returned to normal.

Genji took a long breath before Angela put the bottle to his lips. The thought of water disgusted him, and yet it seemed so tempting at the same time. Wearily, he opened his mouth and accepted the cool drink. He almost forgot how to swallow and was temporarily dazed with water sitting in his mouth, hand desperately grabbing the bottle away from her grip. 

 

“Come on, Genji. Swallow it and you can go straight to sleep.” Angela’s soft voice penetrated his hazy thoughts. His mind was comforted by the thought of sleep, and after drinking half the bottle, his scarred face retreated into the depths of the pillow. Water still dripped from the corner of his mouth, but it didn’t matter. A warm darkness enveloped him, and his eyes immediately closed into slumber. Angela wiped off the excess water from his face and set the bottle down. It was good that he was resting, but what troubled her was why Genji had had such an extreme reaction and how it left him so exhausted. What had triggered such a reaction, to be so desperate to attempt an escape even when only one of his limbs would work. The wild and terrified look he had in his eyes had frightened her. A degree in psychology wouldn’t prepare anyone for  _ this  _ level of anything.

Her eyes caught the glint of Genji’s mask. She picked it up, meaning to put it back on, but her hands could barely hold onto it. He looked so much more peaceful now than ever, a break wouldn’t do any harm. She set the mask back down and moved the blanket over his body. After breakfast they could put it back on, in the meanwhile, he’d have a moment to breathe naturally.

She left the room to talk with Reyes. It might not be the right time, but Genji’s history would still be a good read for the Blackwatch commander. Maybe it would lead to a project she’d been working on for a while, especially with her patient’s new found condition.

 

\-----

 

Morning came, and with it, a new face. Genji licked his dry lips… He licked…

He hastily brought his hand to his face, the mask, it was gone. He wasn’t wearing the mask anymore, but why? He sat up, trailing the long scars across his face with a finger and feeling the metal replacement that had been put in his lower jaw. A quick glance to the side confirmed that the mask would eventually be put on again. It sat harmlessly on the side, and so he picked it up. Just as he had felt while it was on his face, the inside was lined with a sort of rubber and thin cloth. The outside was a simple triangular shape formed of metal. 

Genji still didn’t dare stretch his mouth without permission of one of the doctors, but he still wanted to try and talk. He opened his mouth a bit, but closed it thoughtfully. It had been over a month since he’d spoken, and surprisingly enough, he had nothing to say, or at least to say aloud to the air.

Make something up, he decided.

“I--” The first word came out almost like a bird screeching. He tried again. 

“I… I can speak?” Each word came out slowly almost as a choke. His throat went unusually dry again, and he chugged the remaining water from yesterday. 

“I. I can speak,” He said again, this time more confidently, but still with his mouth barely open.

 

“Yes, yes you can.”

A voice spoke up from behind the curtain. It was accented, similarly to Dr. Ziegler’s, but was of a man. Genji’s head snapped towards the side, and found that the curtain next to him was being drawn back. A man only a few years older than Genji sat on the other side. He had hair that was neither blond nor brown, but somewhere in between, and his eyes were a shade of green. A small smile greeted Genji. However, it soon faded as he got a good look at his neighbor.

He was silent for a moment, but spoke his mind, still deciding to choose his words carefully.

“Ziegler never wants us to ‘invade’ other patients, especially not people who aren’t involved with our organization, but there have been rumors about you. I won’t bother you with questions though, you seem in much worse condition than what we’ve heard. I’m sorry, for your loss and anything else that’s happened. I… sort of know what it feels like to lose a limb now, but nothing more.”

For a long moment, Genji simply stared at him with downcast eyes. Pain still lingered on the tip of his nerves, and this man didn’t help him to forget any of it, but he understood the man had good intentions.

“Thanks,” He muttered. The other man gave an apologetic smile and closed the curtain between them. 

Only a few minutes later, Dr. Ziegler appeared at the door way with a wheelchair and a tray of food. She left the chair by Genji’s side and gave the food to the other man.

“ _ Guten Morgen _ ,” She greeted the latter. “I hope you don’t mind eating in bed.”

“Ha, I’ve always wanted breakfast in bed.  _ Dankeschön, Frau Ziegler _ .”

She then came back over to Genji and helped him into the wheelchair. A sweet smile filled her face, like that of joy for your child, or for the accomplishment of a family member. Genji was confused as to why, but was relieved he still didn’t have to wear the mask yet. 

When he got his food, he hastily drank it down to the last drop, refusing to let even a speck go wasted. As he finished, he noticed the thoughtful form of the doctor over the table. She seemed deep in thought, and Genji wondered whether this was because of his outbreak. 

“What’s wrong?” He said. Tone wasn’t something he could choose for the moment, but as Angela looked at his face, she knew that he understood what had happened, or at least that something did happen.There was a long pause of expectation between them, but Angela eventually spoke up.

“I don’t want to rush you, but do you think you’re emotionally ready to tell us what happened?”

“Ye-” He paused. “Who’s  _ us _ ?”

“Well, for the moment you will only be telling me, but I will have to inform Morrison so that he is aware of what the story is,” She hastened to add something more. “Of course you still need time to rest your vocal chords, and so if you wish to communicate it will have to be through writing.”

Genji took a thoughtful moment himself. “You don’t want to know what happened as if it were a simple story for entertainment. Why do you want it?”

“You are a Shimada, a member of one of the most notorious organizations--”

“And a member of the clan killed one of their own and you want to know why so you can try to exploit them.” Genji finished.

Angela meant to say it in a much lighter tone, but there was no way to deny what he said.  “Well, yes.”

“I’m in.”

She was taken aback, confused. “Excuse me?”

“I said I’m in,” He paused to cough, talking was beginning to take a toll on him, but Genji wanted to speak his mind for once. “I want them gone just as much as you do. I’ll tell you everything.”

His words turned into a coughing fit at the end, and Angela hurried to try to relieve him of it. 

“You shouldn’t talk anymore, and your jaw still isn’t healed. Come on, back to bed.”

Genji frowned and was about to protest, but Angela forced him to put the mask back in place and brought him back to the recovery room. 

He waited until she was gone, then fiddled with the mask. It was a difficult task to do with one hand, but Genji, after having been able to examine it, managed to take it off and looked satisfied with himself. Hans, his neighbor, was watching, and when Genji glanced at him, he only gave a huff of laughter. 

Genji gave a small smile, and soon they were laughing out loud as if they were two old friends sharing an inside joke. An odd sense of happiness filled his chest, even though he barely knew this man. 

  
  


 


	7. Another One Bites the Dust

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hanzo lectures.  
> Might as well become a professor.

**Another One Bites the Dust**

**[Hanzo 3]**

 

How had he ended up here? It was one of those questions Hanzo started to find more frequently.

After waking up to a new day, he’d already made up his mind on what must be done. It had taken awhile to calm himself from last night’s incident, and when he’d fallen asleep his body was drenched in sweat. That didn't matter now, however. Today he had to make another life and death situation for another family member. Although perhaps it should be better titled a death and death situation.

Betrayal was a rare thing, and anything about a betrayer or what punishment the betrayer faced was wiped from history. 

Hanzo let out a long sigh and was about to head out when he was interrupted by a knock on the door. 

“Who is it?” He demanded while just about to open the door.

 

“Sakura,” Came the response, and when Hanzo opened the door she was, indeed, there. He didn't know if he should take this as a good or bad sign. On one hand, he didn't have to go looking for her, but on the other, Sakura may try to take an attempt on his life. It wouldn't be surprising if she chose the latter to say the least. 

“What do you want?” He asked sharply.

Sakura’s face fell a bit, apparently she hadn't been expecting such a cold greeting. 

“I wanted to talk with you, before you decided to do anything more,” She wrapped her arms around him in a hug then tried to lead him further inside his own house. Hanzo pushed her off, her explanation didn't clear anything up, and he took the show of affection badly. Folding his arms over his chest in a guarded gesture, his eyes carefully watched the uninvited guest. 

“Then speak,” he demanded.

 

“You don't have microphones or cameras in here, right Hanzo?” She asked, taking a quick glance around the room.

Hanzo simply glared at her. Why wouldn't he have any spyware disabled in his own house unless it was for him alone?

“Right, um,” There were moments of hesitation as Sakura tried to go through the plan of action through her head. “How much information did you get from Yamamoto?”

“Enough.”

“Oh. Well, of course you did,” Sakura fidgeted a bit, this wasn't how she had hoped their conversation would go. 

She took a long moment and stared into Hanzo’s cold glare. Tears started to form in her eyes, and she ran up to Hanzo pressing her lips against his in a kiss. 

His brows immediately furrowed and he pushed back Sakura. After wiping his mouth in disgust, his voice turned ominously low as he glared into Sakura’s tear drenched eyes. “What the hell was that?”

“I love you Hanzo,” she choked out, and refusing to take denial as an answer she tried to hug him. Hanzo still peeled her off of him, and he shook his head. 

“You  _ love _ me?”

“Yes,” she exclaimed, and found that maybe she should explain what happened. “I-I was the one who released the information to the government. I told them everything! All because I wanted you to forget about the stupid clan and come with me. We could live a normal life together, I’ll fix your meals, clean the house, you get a clean job. No more death and theft, we can start over.”

Hanzo blinked. This… surprised him to say the least. Would someone really give up on their entire family, betray them and everything they’d worked for just so that they alone could have a different life? A thought struck him, this was just like Genji. A betrayal caused by cowardice. In fact...

“It was Genji who convinced you, right?” He growled, pointing at Sakura accusingly. “You two were actually  _ planning  _ this. To betray our family and all we’ve done. Unravel everyone’s lives just so  _ you two  _ could live the lives you wanted. Oh yeah, and let me guess, Genji told you that I wouldn't allow that to happen, but you didn't heed his advice. After I killed him you thought that my depression could be cleared by making me leave this place! All because of these little lies to yourself. Now we have to clear our names so that the government can't gain a warrant and tear down this whole place. A team was captured just recently because of your selfish actions, do you not care for your family?  _ I killed my brother because he refused to follow us, do you not know what I sacrificed? _ Do you know what I went through? Do you know what I had  _ done  _ and what it does to  _ me _ ? Everyday he’s stuck in my head, the shadow which consumes my every thought. I don’t even know if what I did was right. If I had not killed him I would’ve followed him and dishonored the clan, but by killing him I am cursed with relentless guilt. Don't think that romance will solve everything just like those silly movies you watch, it solves  _ nothing.  _ Absolutely nothing. In fact, because of your stupid crush on me, I have to kill another family member. Do you know what burdens I bare? Do you know the many who look up to me, or the many whose fate is decided by me? You’ve dishonored us, Sakura, and there is nothing you can do to save yourself. Now leave!”

His finger shot to the door and he looked at her with the same mixture of fury and sorrow he’d experienced with Genji, although significantly lower. Sakura looked up at him, tears stained her face and she cowered in his fuming presence. Having nothing to say, she ran for the door, a sob emitting from her throat. Hanzo’s arm fell limp to his side as silence descended upon the house. A low sigh escaped him and he blinked away the tears starting to form in his eyes. The door shut, momentarily suppressing the silence. It seemed to disturb him, surely this wasn’t the right way to live, in fear of sudden change. He knew of nobody else who had killed their brother for the sake of honor then continued to run a black market business while coping with the incomprehensible guilt he was constantly experiencing. 

Exhausted, he collapsed in the nearest chair. However, simply because it seemed he could never catch a break, his mind continued to run over what he told Sakura. 

It was true, all of it, and Hanzo had been burying it deeper within himself. 

 

\-----

 

After discussing with the elders Sakura’s betrayal, a decision was made. Tomorrow morning Sakura would be executed. Again, it would be by Hanzo’s hands, or possibly by Sakura herself, but he highly doubted her rebellious nature would lead her to commit suicide. After an hour of meditating, he came to the middle ground of accepting what was to come. This was simple tradition, nothing new among the clan. He wasn't the first to spill the family’s blood for the sake of honor. But at the same time, his brother still nagged at the edge of his mind, almost as if the shade was trying to tell him something. It bothered him throughout the day, and during lunch his brother finally revealed his inner thoughts in an appealing light. 

It was the idea of leaving. The same thing that Genji did--or at least had wanted to do. 

Leaving was a surprisingly welcome idea. After thinking about it further, Hanzo realized that he wouldn't regret the decision that much. Hanamura was a place of broken memories for him. Three of his most beloved people were dead, he had killed his own kin in this very place and he had no more close relationships among his family. Or at least none he trusted would last forever.

Although unwilling to admit his brother was right, he still conceded to the fact that this was the best option for himself. He glanced at the tattooed dragon which peeked out from below his sleeve. 

“How am I supposed to know who to follow if something new pops up after I’ve decided between the last two?” He asked it quietly. Talking to the dragons had started to become a habit of his. And he welcomed their silence as them being patient with him. 

Hanzo decided to take the rest of his free time in the day to prepare to leave. His new goal was to be able to take his leave in a week’s time. 

\----

The next day came, and after a filling breakfast he headed towards the open grounds in the castle. Already there were people gathered before him to set up the occasion. Sakura was temporarily held and still within the walls. Of course that should be no surprise, she had nowhere else to go and even if she had left, someone would have been sent after her to capture the traitor. Hanzo frowned slightly to himself. She would die most likely by his hands for more than one reason, but one of those was for trying to leave the clan. He realized that he was about to commit an act of hypocrisy, for soon he would be doing the same as Sakura. Although he was confident he could actually get away with it. Hanzo’s training was superior to any others in the clan, with the exception of his teachers, and he was quite talented, even some of their most prized assassins wouldn't be able to catch him. 

His eyes locked with Sakura’s defiant gaze, and he couldn't help but slip a short look of pity for her, but it was brief and he quickly returned to his cold mask of indifference. 

More people began to enter the square, watching from the sideline the events that were about to commence. Noticing that at last everyone required to be present was here, he gave a small sigh.

“Let’s get this over with,” Hanzo muttered to himself.

He signaled the man left to guard Sakura to let her go; she began to walk towards him. It seemed that she wouldn't let go of that resistant glare that was trying to burn through him. However, he evenly met her gaze refusing to give her any ground of confidence. For a long moment they stood in front of each other, then Hanzo decided that someone was taking too long and nodded at one of the elders to read the charges. 

As he finished the list, Hanzo removed a long dagger from his belt. 

“You have two options, sacrifice yourself for dishonoring us or I will do it myself,” he spoke in a low and almost bored voice. To his right he noticed Sakura’s mother was weeping and that her father and siblings looked either disappointed or sad. 

The traitor looked briefly to her family and felt saddened. They felt little to no pity for her, and she’d realized the cost of her actions too late. She returned to her look of defiance and lifted her chin as if she were superior. She denied the hilt of the dagger, readying to speak. However, the second she said “I will not kill myself,” Hanzo switched his grip on the blade and quickly swiped it across Sakura’s throat. 

It was so sudden that her face had barely started to form into an expression of surprise and terror and everyone around had to take a moment to realize she was now dead on the ground. 

Hanzo gave the lifeless body a moment of silence. She’d might not have died if he had made his decision to leave earlier, but what was done was done. 

“Clean it up,” he called for no one in particular. His uncaring response startled a few of the watchers who perhaps cared more about her than he did right now. Despite not casting the body another glance, his mind did stumble upon the memories he’d shared with his cousin. Hanzo’s younger years had been a much more pleasant experience. And that only added to the reasons to leave. There was, in fact, a better life outside the clan. It might be dishonoring his family by leaving, but he found he was starting to care about them less and about himself more. He gave an inward sigh and headed home, he had a long way to go.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And another one gone. And another one gone. And another one bites the dust, yeah.  
> Hey, I'm gonna get you too, another bites the dust!
> 
> No? Just me? Okay.  
> Queen is great.


	8. One Step at a Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The commander began to smile viciously. “You can have it, revenge. We’ll turn you into a living weapon. Your past will be wiped away by your hands, it will all be yours. All we ask is that you join us.”

**One Step at a Time**

**[Genji 4]**

 

Another month passed. Angela hadn’t asked him to give her any information about the night of his presumed death _,_ and she hadn’t allowed him to have any more time without the mask on. However, he had noticed that every day she required him to turn over so she could see and scan the backs of his legs.

It wasn’t until the end of that week when she came back with a worried look. Genji raised an eyebrow in question, beginning to mirror the doctor’s look. Angela hugged a clipboard close to her chest and gave him a weak smile. A pity smile. “I’m afraid Genji, that we must amputate your legs.”

His eyes widened, and he sat straighter in disbelief. How else could he express himself?

“There was an unknown substance, a poison if you will, found in your legs. The source was the back of your knees, where we had found two puncture wounds—“

A flash of pain struck him in his practically non existent legs, and Genji remembered Hanzo shoving something sharp into the back of his knees, forcing him down. The shurikens. His brother had always coated them in a blackmarket poison, supposedly so they were prepared for any moment.

“—however, they’ve already sealed the substance in and even through samples we have no idea as to what it may be. Our only option to save what is left of you is to remove your legs. We have plans for what might happen afterward, but I’d rather discuss that when we’re done with the procedure. You will be transferred to the surgery room tomorrow. That is, if you wish to continue with our plans.”

The young man paused for a long moment, staring into Angela’s usually calming blue eyes. They weren’t helping.

This couldn’t be happening. It just couldn’t. He’d already lost an arm, now both legs? What would be the point of life? What if he got prosthetics, but he would still only have one organic arm. Would the world see him as a cripple? A waste of time and energy, a waste of a life? He grew frustrated.

Angela noticed his internal pain and kneeled down beside him. She took his hand in both of hers and spoke quietly. “I promise you that afterwards your life will be renewed, you’ll be much more healthy. We will give you new legs, the ability to walk, we could fix your throat so you can talk properly.” She sounded hopeful, as if he would begin life anew, but the thoughts, fears and doubts still clouded his mind. Or at least they did, until she continued speaking. “I’ll give you a hint at what we are planning for your future.”

And with a voice quieter than a mouse, she whispered into Genji’s ear.

His head cleared, and in his eyes a new fire awoke. Genji carefully nodded his head in consent to the amputation. Angela stood up, a mask of happiness on her face, but below there was fear, and sadness. She’d hoped that perhaps he could have gone past his anger, conquered it and become a successful young man. But Reyes was right, he wanted it. Badly.

——-

 

The following morning, Genji found himself being rolled to a surgical room and dressed in a paper gown. Several staff nodded their greetings to him, but they wasted no time. The moment he lay prone on the table, the head man told him the steps they would take for a successful procedure. Someone attached a tube to his arm, from TV reference he managed to guess it was one of those IV things. His eyes darted around and he found several empty monitors, just starting to gain data. Behind him, Angela gently lifted his head and stuck something into his neck. The air in his mask began to smell good, and almost immediately he gave in to the anesthesia. Just before he left the conscious plane however, he heard a short pass of conversation.  

“Why did you knock him out?”

“He is too unpredictable, and I am afraid the amputation might cause him more mental harm, which in turn may cause him physical harm.”

Genji inwardly frowned. That was Angela’s voice, wasn’t it? Why would she not trust him? A spark of anger tried fan itself into a flame, wanting to defend himself, but it dissipated as he succumbed to the warm dark of the anesthesia.

 

——-

 

There was a dull throb in his legs. It was uncomfortable, and he couldn’t shift himself into a comfortable position. He wiggled around some more, not wanting to wake up. With an inward sigh he reluctantly opened his eyes. No rest for the weary.

As his eyes began to adjust to the brightness of the room, the throb in his legs intensified. There might as well have been a heart in them. Finally able to see, he caught the gaze of someone supposedly keeping watch. They held each other’s eyes for a moment. Genji broke it, curious to see why his legs might hurt. In fact, now that he thought of it, it wasn’t his legs that hurt, but it was him abdomen. He opened the gown to find a set of stitches running across his hips. For a moment he boggled over why they might have done that and what they had done, but his gaze was attracted by the other concerning wounds.

He blinked. He blinked because that was all he was capable of doing. It was astonishing to find the bottom half of his legs gone, and even more so when he couldn’t feel the pain. There wasn’t much he could see of the amputation from this angle, and while trying to imagine it, he realized he was glad he couldn’t. What he did see though, was still a bit disturbing. Healthy skin was peeled over his thighs and he could see the tiny red imprints of veins mapping their way across. The very edges of the skin, the closest to his muscles, was still stained in a scarlet blood and underneath he could see small brown stains on his temporary bed. The blood didn’t bother him all too much. After all, it was basically the family business to kill. The problem he had was the skin. It made him queasy to see it pulled back in such a way, and he finally decided to look away, opting for the white ceiling.

Moments later, his ears caught the shifting sweep of a coat and he snapped his head around to see the door close. For a moment he glared at it, waiting for someone to use the door again. Not surprisingly, Angela made her way through the door, followed by the man who had been watching him earlier.

“You are awake,” she stated, hesitating between the words.

Genji gave her a slow nod, unsure of what to think of her reaction.

“Well, I suppose the inevitable is upon us,” she muttered, mostly to herself, but with only the sound of rain outside, Genji could hear. It made him doubt. “After a week’s time, we should have made sure there is no further disease or poison in your legs and begin adjusting you to your prosthetics. Until then, we’ll continue to keep you fed and rested.”

Genji blinked in acknowledgment and collapsed back onto his bed exhausted both mentally and physically. New legs, how would those work? He had never cared to ask how when he was younger. Did it mean they’d have to stick things into the working parts of his legs? Have something attaching his nerves to the machine part. He furrowed his brows for a moment, hoping that the new legs he would get were similar to his old ones. His organic ones.

 

The week passed, Genji’s legs were healthy now, freed of any remaining poison. And when Angela stepped in, he was hoping to see some sort of case with new legs so he could finally start walking again. He was awfully uncomfortable, having not moved on his own for months. Unfortunately, though, his wishes were not met. Instead of prosthetics, he got news. Angela told him that once again he must undergo surgery. This time, on his back. They needed to fix his spine before anything else happened. At the news, Genji lightly glared at her. He had no wish to wait further. Impatience had been growing in him ever since the start of that week, and it wanted to snap. If only he hadn’t been wearing the damned muzzle.

 

A couple days passed, and the nurses had started to help him through minor physical therapy. His spine was healed, but scars marked his surgery. At last, when they deemed him strong enough, Genji laid eyes on a pair of metal contraptions, in the shape of legs. A wide smile tried to erupt inside his mask. Just thinking of walking made him overjoyed. But of course, as there always seemed to be for something he wanted, there was a catch. Before being presented with his new limbs, he had to agree to something.

Angela gave a near silent sigh. “As we had discussed before, Overwatch requires information on the Shimada Clan, and considering your training in many fields of stealth and combat, Overwatch’s sub organization would like to recruit you to work for them in their covert missions. If you are to accept, you will gain these prosthetics, a new arm, and… We’re offering you a cybernetic transformation. All that’s asked of you is to keep secret, loyal, and obedient. If you are to decline, we will give you the legs still, but no further help is required of us.” Something in her voice made her sound regretful, and weak.

Behind her, a man spoke up. Genji had not realized he was there, having focused on the prospect of mobility. He also recognized him as the man that had apprehended him nearly a month and a half earlier. “Genji Shimada, it’s been brought to my attention that you are grieving several losses.” The man stood to attention, straight backed, hands held behind him, and feet close together. He was a man of war. His voice was firm, steady, and convincing. As he spoke, Genji realized the mental manipulation that he was going for, but agreeing with all of what the man was speaking, had no objection.

“Mr. Shimada, I am truly sorry for you. The loss of your limbs, the betrayal of your family, the doubt you have in who to trust. I bet you’re angry, and I’ll tell you what, you have every right to be. They’ve turned you into a broken man, covered in blood and scars, stripping you of your potential! Did you even get a fighting chance against them? Or did the clan just pounce on you like they did to every other victim that fell to them.” Angela squeezed the man’s arm, urging him not to speak like this, to not anger her patient, but neither man listened. The Blackwatch commander continued. “No, you weren’t even treated like a mere target, you were treated worse. They practically tortured you, whipped you, beat you, cut you, until they saw you were hanging onto the last string of life. Did they even wait until you died? They just left you there, suffering, laying in agony, waiting for the sweet release of death. And your family didn’t even give you that. Where’s the honor in such treachery? Aren’t you mad? Don’t you want to show them what you felt? Don’t you want to hurt them? Show them what they did! Release your anger, unleash your fury upon them! Don’t let them think they won and broke you. You’re not dead yet, and you’re going to show them, all of them, what you suffered.”

Reyes has ended in a harsh whisper, his eyes deep with his own summoned anger. Across from him, Genji hissed from his teeth. It was a low, threatening noise. The veins in his arm strained and popped as he gripped the edge of his bed with a crushing force. All of his memories of Hanzo’s betrayal flooded his mind, feeding his anger. His chest heaved with strain as his breathing grew quicker, and he could feel the old pain there. It only acted as another reminder. The man was right, Hanzo had practically whipped him like a horse, leaving him to die without the single most thought of mercy. He would show him. He would show them all! That’s right, all of them would suffer the same pain as he did that night. Hanzo, Akira, Hayato, Masato, all of them. That would show them.

Genji’s eyes had interlocked with Reyes’ during the entire duration of his speech. And now the latter began to smile viciously. “You can have it, revenge. We’ll turn you into a living weapon. Your past will be wiped away by your hands, it will all be _yours_. All we ask, is that you join us.”

Beside Reyes, Angela looked at Genji with wide and worried eyes. She fished for something in her pockets. Genji, mean while, only grew in hatred of his family. His breathing was almost labored now, and he was inhaling sharply through grinding teeth. Exhaling every breath with a loud huff, almost like a dragon.

“I accept,” he sharply whispered. The moment after he answered Angela took her que and injected a needle into Genji’s arm. Immediately, he could feel the effects of a drug. It slowed his heart down and relaxed him. He breathed almost a sigh of relief as all thoughts of anger, revenge, and pain slipped from his mind. Briefly, he closed his eyes, and when he opened them again, he saw Angela trying to drag his new commander out of the room, quietly scolding him. Genji ignored it, listening to the enveloping sound of his own slowed heartbeat.

This was a peaceful place. Rain lightly beat on the low roof, and the lights were dimmed to add to the ambience. The room’s calming theme of light blues and greys wrapped him in a cool blanket. He could wait until tomorrow to walk. But rest wouldn’t come easy for him. Flashes, no, memories clouded his sight. He could see blood plaguing his sheets, his skin, he could even feel the pain in his back again. The pain in his chest sparked up, and his shoulder seared as the memories of his arm being cut off came back. He cried out in pain, wishing for it to stop. His eyes were squeezed shut in agony, and he could feel tears welling up in them, responding to the pain.

A cool hand pressed against his forehead, and with a jerk, Genji woke up. His head felt very warm, and he could see the worried face of Angela looking down at him. He only raised an eyebrow in question.

“Is everything alright? You were screaming in your sleep, and you seem to have a small fever.”

“I… I am fine. Thank you, doctor.”

Angela frowned, as if she was unconvinced. Genji ignored it and rubbed his jaw. It was good to not have to wear the damned contraption.

“Well, if you say so. However, I’m afraid we’ll have to check if that truly is a fever or if we prematurely close up you amputations. How is your jaw feeling?”

“Good?”

“I hope so. Until the time comes, you will have no need for the mask. But if you ever feel pain, please tell me immediately.”

Genji nodded, and his scarred face lit up at the news of having a freed jaw. He was almost overjoyed for a moment, but when Angela left he was plunged into silence. That silence bred boredom and loneliness, his lips twisted into a frown, and from that boredom grew impatience. His brows furrowed, attempting to think of something that he could do. From that impatience, frustration was born, and it fanned the flame of anger which had never been extinguished. He let out a loud groan to the ceiling. When would he finally be able to walk again, to talk to others, to do something? His one arm pounded on the bed. He wanted to fight something, destroy something, break something. With irritated fingers he twisted the bed sheets into his fist. This wasn’t fair. Why did Hanzo go unharmed, unscathed from the millions of wounds he delivered to Genji. Where was his brother now, commanding men and drinking tea with officials? Forgetting all about his younger brother who lay in a bed, missing three limbs and having nothing to do but brood. Why did _he_ get all the high life? Genji had nothing, not even a single personal belonging, but an arm. An arm he could do nothing with, absolutely nothing.

In rage he lifted the sheets, and finding nothing else to do, slammed them back into the bed.

“It’s not fair,” he yelled to himself. There was no way to express his emotions, and so he eventually gave up and let the anger subside. It turned back into loneliness and tired him, so he slept. His time would come.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I decided to save his "transformation" for the next Genji chapter because of all the time skips.


	9. The Enemy of My Enemy Is Not My Friend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Alright, Saroy--”  
> “Sora,” Hanzo corrected. Even he remembered the fake name. In that moment, he also realized it was quite satisfying to interrupt this man in the middle of his sentence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Been a while, ay?  
> I actually forgot I hadn't posted this one so it could've come a lot sooner.
> 
> And something happened to the next Genji chapter I was working on, so I'm silently seething in rage.  
> Anyways, enjoy your stereotypical "prophetic" dream beginning.

**The Enemy of My Enemy Is Not My Friend**

**[Hanzo 4]**  

 

It was dark.

Black.

Empty.

Void of anything but nothing.

It was disturbing.

 

He began to walk. The air was still and deathly stale.

A light appeared before him. Weak and dim, but there nonetheless. Wary of what might lurk in the nothingness, he dared not run, but kept a slow walk.

The light quickly grew larger and larger, it engulfed him. The light didn’t help to make him feel any more comfort, and air hadn't changed; he still choked on it’s bitterness.

Then he was falling.

The jarring sensation threatened to wake him up, but the nightmare refused to leave so quickly. His surroundings became a blur, and with a start he hit the ground.

Picking himself up, he went to take in him surroundings. It was the temple.

The air was still stale, but it had a new scent.

Blood.

He turned around, and there it was. The crippled body of his dead brother, torn and dismembered, small and fragile.

It looked worse than he remembered it to be. And it was still. No breeze fluttered his clothes, not a petal dared float through the temple’s entrances. Not a single thing stirred, and there was absolutely no sound.

Something else caught his eye.

Outside, the sky was neither bright nor dark. The setting sun and the full moon shone ominously together. The sky was fixed in a dark red near black.

It was reflecting the time in which he had fought Genji, he realized. He began to leave the temple and noticed that as he walked the sky continually grew darker.

Maybe if he… Continuing forward he started to follow the steps he had created in the past. With every stride he unwillingly felt closer to running as if he was reliving the day all over again. Guilt doubled over in his mind, making him feel even worse, but when he reached the spot his guilt lifted briefly. Before him lay the huddled form of his past self. It now felt like a lifetime ago. He went to sit next to himself and wrapped an arm around the crying but still form.

For a long moment he found himself lost in thought. He’d always been the one to support his brother in times of need, but had he ever been the one supported? He frowned. Never had he asked or received intended emotional support. He’d always thought of himself as mentally strong. And stubborn.

Deciding to explore the rest of the dream, Hanzo hefted himself on the top of the ledge to find his past self frozen in place, and already sneaking past the sniper. He looked back down and his previous form was gone. Again, he passed his former self, and instead of taking the route he had originally taken that day, Hanzo decided to walk along the ledge where the sniper had been located. Finding nothing new and the sniper’s shape blurred, he slid down to the first level of the temple. That’s when things began to change again. Genji’s body disappeared, and the sniper was caught mid air from hopping off the ledge. Hanzo took the moment to examine the uniform and face, but most of it was still blurry. His attention turned towards the airship which had landed outside the temple. He set off after it, but by the time he reached the spot where the Overwatch team boarded, they were already far off in the distance. He turned around and stepped back inside. It felt very different all of a sudden.

The interior of the temple was clean. Spotless except for the ruined tapestry which fluttered with a non existent wind. Behind him the sun began to shine sweetly, its rays warming his back. The sound of rustling trees softly broke the silence, and he started to feel the breeze which had originally stirred the tapestry. The air felt cool, and the smell of woodsmoke lightly brushed by. A handful of cherry blossoms made their way inside, floating gently to the ground. Hanzo took a deep breath. This place was peacefully tranquil, but even more to his surprise, the world was no longer frozen or stale.

It was breathing, just as it should.

Something glinting in the sun’s light caught his attention. A surge of realization hit him. This was a rather recent event that had taken place. He had experienced this exact same moment only a month ago.

Approaching the shining object further, he found that it was exactly as he thought. The blue tinged steel of his katana rested on a stand before the torn tapestry. Some time ago, he had come to lay it here, and for more than one reason. The blade had become an awful burden for him, he had always faltered with it after Genji’s death, unable to wield it properly. He had also placed it here in honor of his brother. Perhaps to others the blade which felled someone should not be given to them in remembrance, but there was always more than one way to look at things.

Enjoying the serene moment, Hanzo situated himself on the floor and closed his eyes. He took the moment to meditate, but the expression of contentment fell from his face. After a minute the air blew deathly cold and the sun disappeared. He felt a presence behind him, but dared not open his eyes. His heart suddenly dropped as he heard a familiar voice.

“I’m not dead yet, Hanzo,” Genji laughed. It sounded playful, full of determination, and yet at the same time, deeply sinister as if it was hinting at more.

“Well don't scare me like that again,” Hanzo whispered in reply. He had remembered that moment too. Opening his eyes, he expected to find his younger brother coated in dust, sweating but happy from sparring. But nothing was there. The endless black enveloped him again, and two hands seized his shoulders, pushing him further down into its maw.

 

\-----

 

Hanzo jolted awake in a cold sweat. It had barely been two weeks since he left the Shimada Clan. Raising himself to glance in the shabby hotel’s mirror, he was still surprised by the man who looked back at him. After leaving, Hanzo had decided that one of the best things to do was to change his appearance. With a knife he had majorly reduced the length of his hair, it didn't look great and its length was now so closely cropped to his head that it felt weird and gave little movement when he shook his head. He had also let his facial hair start to grow out more, obscuring the softness of his face. It was still mere stubble and felt rough, but it would amount in time.

Hanzo frowned in thought at his reflection. The changes made him look a lot older than before, and he wasn’t sure if it was a good or bad thing. He brushed his teeth then went to dress. His traditional clothes had been left behind, there wasn’t any need for them now. Instead, his wardrobe now consisted of a couple plain T-shirts, a jacket, a change of jeans, and a pair of gloves.  The dragon tattooed on his arm would be a dead giveaway as to who he was which is why he seemed to never take off the jacket or gloves. In addition, all his belongings had been condensed to fit in a simple backpack. Hanzo still had no idea if he wanted to stay in a specific place or travel a while, but the latter seemed rather enticing, and if he wanted to do that then he couldn’t keep much with him. He’d taken with him very few sentimental items, but knowing he would probably never see it again, cut out the wolf’s head in the rug his mother had made for him long ago. Also with the knowledge that he would need a weapon, Hanzo, again, scrapped the traditional stuff for its bulkiness and attention grabbing design, and stole a pistol and some ammo for it. Well, technically he hadn’t stolen it, at that time he had had rights to take just about whatever he wanted. It was now concealed at his waist and within easy reach along with a switchblade.

With a lazy sigh, Hanzo left the shabby little room he’d rented and headed out to get some breakfast. After checking his watch however, he realized with a start that it was nearly past noon. Lunch then. Perhaps he’d had too much to drink last night. A familiar saying ran through his head. ‘Alcohol isn’t the answer’ they all advised. His mouth twisted in a scowl. Well, it may not be, but it sure does make you feel a lot damn better.

The hotel he had picked wasn’t in the best condition, or in the most hospitable of towns. It was all the better for anonymity, however. While leaving, he decided to make it final. From here he would make it to the airport in Tokyo and be off, out of the most dangerous territory for him currently.

Making sure he’d gathered all his stuff, Hanzo slung the backpack over his shoulder. He greeted the lady at the front and paid for his stay, thanking her for her hospitality. The woman gave him a genuine and kindly smile. Clearly she didn’t meet respectful people here that often.

There was a ramen restaurant only a block from where he had stayed for the night, so he made his way there. The outside air was very refreshing, the sharp winter air helping to wake him up. The door ringed as he entered, and he quickly seated himself and ordered. The food came out fast, his stomach growled its approval, and it was actually pretty decent. After finishing his first bowl and asking for a second,  he noticed as an odd pair of men came through the doors. They seemed dressed for some sort of battle or mission. From what he could gather in his peripheral vision, they both had bullet proof vests over their normal clothing and wore uniform colors of black and red.

The older man wore a peculiar symbol on his shoulder. However, not wanting to attract any attention, Hanzo didn’t dare move his head to catch a more clear look at it. He muttered his thanks as he was served his bowl, and kept the two in the corner of his eye as he ate. Years of training and experience taught him to always be wary, especially if the man looked the part.

The two were clearly foreigners. If you couldn’t tell by them speaking fluent English in place of Japanese, then their appearance would distinguish them apart from the usual population. The older man was of a brown skin color, and his face clearly marked himself a man of experience; it appeared to be covered in nasty scars. The younger was a scrappy looking man who seemed around the same age as Hanzo. He sported peculiar facial hair and was due for a haircut.

From listening in on their conversation, Hanzo had discovered their names were Jesse and Gabriel--or as the younger seemed to prefer, Gabe. Satisfied but still a bit thirsty, for both fluids and information, he paid his build and slowly sipped from his glass.

Just after receiving his debit card back, Hanzo froze. He quickly realized his mistake and proceeded to pocket his card. The cause of his hesitation was when the pair had mentioned the Shimada Clan. There was no knowing whether his face was far enough from recognition or not, and these two seemed to be well informed enemies. Hopefully they would think of him as a normal patron, and not the former master of the Shimada Clan. Through context he guessed these two were against the organization. And possibly looking to infiltrate.

Hanzo pinched the bridge of his nose, holding in a pity laugh for himself. He’d left the clan, leaving his father's legacy to rot and wishing no more to be involved in such business, but nobody outside the organization would know that yet. He was in an extremely tight spot, more specifically: the middle of literally everyone who wanted him dead right now. His own family was probably hunting him down, and now these two guys, who were most likely sent by a powerful organization to assassinate him as well.

 _Overwatch_ , he thought, _they’re probably some branch off. It may have been a while, but picking up a corpse wasn't what they meant to do that day. They’re going to dismantle the clan, and these two are here to do it._

Hanzo felt unease settling in his stomach, mixing with the previously comforting food. The two were armed and most likely expecting the unexpected. He should get out of here before they even had the slight chance of thinking he was affiliated with their target.

Distracted by his own thoughts and the growing nervousness inside him, Hanzo nearly knocked over his glass of water. There was a light clatter and a bit of spillage, causing Hanzo to silently curse himself. He could swear he was even starting to tremble. He had been trained for these situations and had experienced several already, why was he acting up now of all times? This wasn’t like him. He was never so nervous.

With shaky hands he politely wiped up his mess. A tightness seized his throat as he felt silent stares burning into his back. Before getting up, he subtly slipped off a glove. His hand was clearly shaking underneath, and all too much for his liking. He quickly shoved the glove back on and abruptly left the restaurant. His eyes gave the two agents a wary glance, and Hanzo mentally slapped himself for doing so. By now they probably knew what was going on. For the moment he tried to walk calmly, but by the time he thought he was out of sight of the restaurant, his stride broke into a run. His chest contracted, his throat refused to take in air, and his whole body seemed to be trembling. The weather didn’t help either. The blinding combination of the glaring sun and glistening snow disoriented him, but due to all mighty instinct, his body naturally gravitated towards the subway, seeking a quicker mode of transportation.

Unfortunately, he wasn’t safe though. The two armed occupants in the restaurant had noticed Hanzo’s sudden change in behavior, and with a silent exchange, Jesse paid while Gabriel shot off after their new suspect.

Both men were extremely fit, but with Hanzo’s faulty behavior and the physical enhancements given to Gabriel, the chase was cut rather short. The former Yakuza leader fell to the ground in a full on tackle, pinned to the ground. He took a moment to close his eyes and try to think clearly, then switched the positions between him and his attacker. Gabriel clearly wasn’t expecting much of a fight and quickly found himself under his former captive with a knife to his throat.

Hanzo didn’t say anything, not trusting his still stressed throat to let out a single word and simply breathed heavily on Reyes’ face.

“Hey now, let’s not do anything we might regret,” Gabriel said, slowly raising his arms to his head. Hanzo shifted his gaze nervously at the movement, and Gabriel used the distraction and uncertainty to his advantage. With a practiced movement, he twisted the knife out of Hanzo’s hands, safely away from his throat, and jumped to his feet. Although he was also taken by surprise, Hanzo rose just as quickly. For a split second he thought about using his gun, but the range was too close, his opponent would only twist it out of his hands just as he did with the knife. Unknown to him, Gabriel had been thinking the same thing, and both seemed to silently agree on resorting to hand to hand combat. They seemed near equally matched, though Hanzo was starting to regain his confidence and calm composure and soon started to overtake Gabriel, finding that he could gain the advantage.

After landing a swift kick to his opponent’s stomach he prepared to take a final blow to the man’s head, but was abruptly stopped by the cold touch of a blade on his throat. An arm clamped over his jaw, forcing his head up.

“I think that’s quite enough, partner,” Jesse remarked from behind. Gabriel rose and wiped his mouth clear of spit, Hanzo had done quite a number on him.

“Took you enough damned time.”

“Had to leave a tip.”

“Sure.”

Gabriel turned his attention back to the glaring and unmoving captive. He motioned for Jesse to bring him farther down the alley. Hanzo’s heart lurched as he felt the blade pierce his neck slightly. A drop of red lightly traced the blade’s edge.

“So, what’s got you all jumpy kid?” Gabriel asked. Jesse let the knife slack a little so Hanzo could talk and moved the arm that previously covered his mouth to grasp his shoulders. He assumed that this would be the definition of a death hug. Hanzo took a shuddering breath.

“Absolutely nothing,” Hanzo answered in a calm tone, but his words seemed to quiver in the air. Gabriel took a threatening step forward. The light crunch of snow underfoot seemed to be much louder in the moment of silence.

“‘Absolutely nothing,’ huh? Nobody just up and runs without a reason. You were listening to us.”

“You won’t find what you’re looking for here.”

“We won’t, really?”

Gabriel took two more steps forward, and a triumphant spark flashed in Hanzo’s eyes. The former realized it all too late. Using a similar move to Gabriel’s earlier escape, he caused Jesse to drop the knife and forcefully broke himself out of the young man’s grip. Not finished, however, he used the momentum to grab Jesse’s arm and shove him into his commander. It all happened in barely a second and both men were stunned as Hanzo ran away to scale the next climbable building he found.

Gabriel shoved his comrade off him almost immediately after he was tossed in the way, allowing Jesse to regain balance and start off after Hanzo.

“Don't you dare fucking kill him,” Reyes growled, just loud enough to carry off to his young companion. Jesse didn't acknowledge the comment, but he hadn't been planning to shoot their target with a solid bullet anyway.

Hanzo reached the edge of another roof and leaped forward to catch the next one. However, upon landing, something sharp bit into his thigh. His leg suddenly went numb and he stumbled, falling prone on the rooftop. He tried to stand back up, but his legs refused to respond. Whatever had hit him seemed to have been some sort of paralyzer. He could feel a numbness slowly spreading through his body, and it was starting to scare him. There was a tingling sensation in his fingertips now. But after seeing that fighting his own limbs to move wouldn't work, he decided to simply give up. He rested his head on the cold, white brick with a soft sigh. _So much for a better life outside the clan._

On the streets below, Jesse slipped a peculiar looking gun back in his belt. Blackwatch had been experimenting more with sciences, and a newly formed temporary paralysis chemical had just been injected into the fleeing former assassin.

Gabriel was just behind Jesse and shouldered past him to examine the wall. Finding several handholds, he started to lift himself up the wall. Hanzo, still having control over his upper body, twisted himself to face the Blackwatch commander. He glared at the man, helpless to stop himself from being restrained.

“You’ve already caused us enough trouble for the day, kid. And great job, you even managed to catch a small crowd,” Gabriel sighed, waving a hand at the streets below them. Sure enough, several people had stopped what they were doing to watch. Some teenagers looked especially interested in the conflict, phones having already slipped out of pockets and recording the scene. Reyes made a mental note to procure those phones before something got out.

As gently as possible, Gabriel slid Hanzo off the roof’s edge, hoping Jesse would catch the poor man before he broke something. Hanzo continued to stay absolutely silent and only bit his lip, letting out a small huff from the impact of falling.

“Let’s head somewhere more private. I don't like prying eyes. Jesse, you’re carrying him, I don't want the little shit kicking me again when he regains his legs,” Reyes ordered, beginning to quickly walk away. Jesse, supporting Hanzo so that he would remain somewhat standing, gave him a quizzical look and shouted back to Reyes, “How?”

“I don't care, just pick him up somehow. You can put him back on his feet when or if he can walk.”

Jesse reached under his hat to scratch his head. After a moment of thinking, he came up with a solution. The arm he wasn't using to support Hanzo went behind his knees, sweeping the captive’s legs out from under him. Hanzo have an involuntary grunt of surprise as Jesse began to hold him in a bridal position. The latter just shrugged apologetically and went after his commander. Hanzo simply held onto his supporter’s shoulder to make sure he didn't topple out. No point in trying to escape now, his legs would probably be numb for a while and the two would just be able to pull off the same trick again if he was able to run.

After a few minutes, they arrived at a small apartment complex. Jesse was getting extremely tired from carrying a full grown man, and Hanzo could only twitch his ankles, offering absolutely no help.

“Why did they make it last so long,” Jesse complained to himself. They entered the apartment and Jesse sat Hanzo down rather roughly on a chair. Again, the latter tried to test his own legs. He could feel himself starting to control his limbs better, but still knew he wasn't up for much. Reyes cast him a quick look. “Is he still numb, Jesse?”

“Think I’d be carrying him if he damn wasn't?” Jesse snapped back, a bit cranky from having to carry someone near his own weight for so long. Gabriel’s eyebrow shot up and the former quickly adjusted his statement.

“Sorry, sir. He’s still prone.”

“That’s what I thought,” Gabe said, rolling his eyes. The kid had potential, but he still needed work, especially in the discipline area.

Taking the chance while Hanzo was still unable to defend himself, he temporarily uncuffed the captive, removed his jacket and gloves then patted the rest of him down. He removed the gun from Hanzo’s waist and took the man’s wallet then restricted his hands behind the chair again. His backpack had already been tossed to the side and Jesse was sifting through it.

Hanzo’s heart raced as Reyes forced his gloves and jacket off. It was impossible to not see the tattoo which ran down his arm, and he hoped the two wouldn't recognize it.

“Curious,” Reyes remarked, but said nothing more as he began to search through the wallet. Hanzo sent a silent prayer, hoping that these two didn't know anything about his language either.

“You don't have any ID or driver’s license of any sort?” Reyes asked, surprised to find nothing but a couple of cards and some cash. Hanzo shook his head no, although he did in fact have one. It was simply hidden away.

“Well then,” Reyes glared at him accusingly, then switched his attention to his partner. “You find anything?”

Jesse shrugged. “Just a bunch of clothes really.”

Although it seemed insignificant to his companion, Reyes knew exactly what that meant.

“You’re running from something,” he muttered first to himself. “What’s your name, kid?”

Hanzo didn't respond, fighting his worry and putting a mask of calm on his face.

“I said, _what’s your name, kid?”_ He seized the younger by the throat, threatening to choke him. Hanzo’s eyes widened, he hadn't thought they’d resort to violence this quickly.

“Sora,” he mumbled, unable to speak with a hand around his throat.

“What was that?” Reyes glared, letting go only a little.

“Sora,” Hanzo gasped. No point in giving his real name, that would be asking for immediate death.

“Last name?”

“Takahashi.”

“Great job, Mr. Takahashi. The more cooperative you are the less time this’ll take.”

Hanzo glanced to the side, Jesse was typing something on the tablet. He hoped there were more than enough Sora Takahashis to cover him up if the man was searching for his fake name. Reyes pushed his head back to face the intimidating man.

“Eyes on me, kid. Now, what are you doing?”

“Sitting here,” Hanzo responded. Reyes glared at him, but Hanzo clearly refused to change his answer, hard and calm eyes meeting his captor’s gaze.

“You’re sitting here?” Gabriel sighed. This was another one of those smart ass mouths. “Let’s narrow the question down. Who are you running from.”

“What does it matter to you?”

His answer earned him a hard slap across the face. Jesse’s head snapped to attention, but seeing as nothing seemed out of order, continued what he was doing. Hanzo grimaced however, his cheek stinging.

“I'm leaving some people behind, how’s that?”

“Better,” Gabriel growled, “But not good enough.”

Hanzo noticed that the interrogator’s companion wasn’t paying attention to him from his peripheral vision. His hands, seeing opportunity that no one was looking, explored the mechanism that kept him stuck here. His fingers searched the handcuffs for some kind of lock while his mind went over ideas. He made sure that the whole time he was staring at Reyes, eyes locked in a childish game of don’t blink.

The jacket and gloves were gone, so he had no picks or anything within reach. The short length of the cuffs on his hands prevented him from trying to use anything on the chair, so no nails. Pockets, shoes, and belt were all out of reach, and he never kept anything in his shirt. Could he use the dragons? They would create a good enough distraction and could kill the two. But the reflexes of man were much quicker than the speed of the serpents, one of them could pull a gun and shoot him before he could accomplish anything. Then after he died nothing would really matter since, well, he was dead. What would his corpse care?

His thoughts trailed on for only a second and were interrupted when Gabriel roughly grabbed his face, digging his nails into his cheeks. Hanzo winced as he could already feel the warm trickle of blood start to trail his face.

“Come on kid, we don’t have all day.”

Hanzo barely hesitated a second, the only he would get out this was by following their orders.

“What do you want to know?” he conceded, he refused to show anymore weakness however, and evenly met his captor’s gaze.

Reyes smiled but didn’t let go. “That’s more like it. Why did you run?”

Unable to think of anything other excuse quickly, Hanzo spoke as near to the truth as he dared.

“You mentioned the Shimada Clan. We’re not on good terms, I didn’t know if you were one of them or not.”

“Describe ‘not on good terms.’”

“They’re out to kill me.”

“Why?”

Gabriel’s grip was only strengthening and Hanzo sharply sucked in a breath, trying to deal with the pain.

“I did something they didn’t like.”

“Which is?”

Hanzo’s face was extremely tense now, he could feel the blood starting to trail down his neck.

“Hey boss, I think you should probably let go now,” Jesse interrupted. Hanzo’s eyes snapped towards the man’s position, the edge of his lip twitched into a pained smile, sending a silent message of thanks. The former barely noticed, his own eyes attracted to the damage Reyes was causing. It didn’t look a whole lot pretty.

“Huh?” Gabriel grunted, turning his attention towards Jesse.

“I said you should probably let go,” He restated, gesturing to the blood that was being pushed out of the helpless man’s face. “You’re not exactly making it easier for the poor guy to speak.”

“Oh,” Gabriel said, removing his grip. “Right.”

Hanzo involuntarily let out a breath he never knew he’d been holding. He bit his lip. Now that the claw like nails had left his face, the wounds were starting to sting more.

“I’m still waiting for an answer,” Gabriel said, impatiently cleaning his hand then folding his arms.

“I killed two of their men.”

“Really?” Gabriel gave a small huff of laughter. “I suppose even scrap like you could do that.”

Hanzo frowned at that. It wasn’t exactly a fair insult, he was of a strong build and would have beaten Reyes in a fight, if it weren’t for his companion.

“Anyway, the two you killed must’ve been important in some way. And if you managed to get rid of someone you must know either who’s in it or how to get in-- and out,” At this point, he was thinking out loud and Hanzo wouldn’t particularly call it a bad thing in his case. “Sora, right?”

Gabriel gave him a hard look and Hanzo temporarily stumbled over his own thoughts before nodding in confirmation.

“Okay, Sora, well I’m sure you had plans to get as far away from here as possible, but we’re going to have to postpone that.”

Hanzo opened his mouth to object, but reminded himself he had no control currently. Gabriel noticed the action.

“Wise choice. Anyways, you’re going to be our entry into that Clan’s heart. Do you know their leader, Hanzo, by any chance?”  
Inside his chest, Hanzo’s heart leapt in fear, but outside he shook his head no.

“Shame,” Reyes muttered, searching the younger’s face for more clues of any kind. Finding none he switched his gaze to his companion. “Jesse, set him down somewhere else, I want to be able to use this chair for breakfast. No reason to gag him, the kid should also have enough sense to stay quiet on his own. If not, I’d be happy to show him how.”

“Yessir.”

Gabriel left the current room, leaving Jesse to do as he asked. The young man watched his commander leave before addressing the captive.

“Can you walk now or do I have to carry you again?” There was the smallest hint of a whine in his tone.

Hanzo rolled his eyes, but he hadn’t checked during the interrogation. Trying to swing his one of his legs, the left one gave a violent twitch the first two attempts, but became calmer after a few more tries. _Good enough._

“I can walk,” Hanzo spat.

“All the better,” Jesse shrugged, ignoring the other’s glare. He turned around, expecting Hanzo to follow, then had to pivot on his heel after a few steps. “Are you coming?”

“Do you think I can get out of this chair?”

With a sigh, the man released Hanzo’s hands, then forced one of the latter’s arms behind his  back so that he wouldn’t be tempted to run. Although Jesse quickly realized that the man wouldn’t be able to run, or do much else. Hanzo’s walk wasn’t much of a walk but more of just a bunch of trips and stumbles. The guy might say he could walk, but saying something was a lot different from doing it. Jesse patiently guided Hanzo over to a coffee table, glad that at least his back wouldn’t have to suffer this time.

He unhooked the manacles from his belt and gestured for Hanzo to sit down. After the latter did so, Jesse roughly secured his wrists around the table leg. He then also came out with a zip tie and tightly secured Hanzo’s ankles.

“A little extra, don’t you think,” Hanzo asked, looking down at his legs.

“With folk like you it usually pays to be a little extra,” Jesse answered the sitting figure. “Also, that table is nailed to the floor.”

Hanzo cast him a quizzical look. “Who nails a coffee table to the floor?”

“Impractical people.”

 

Sometime later, Hanzo was uncomfortably sleeping on the sharp edge of a table. His shoulders were already starting to get sore from constantly having his hands restricted beneath and behind him, and he couldn’t do much but sit around and rest his head on the top of the wooden table. Blood still stained his lower jaw and cheek from when Gabriel had grabbed him, the five marks still lightly flowed with the same liquid.

Perhaps two hours earlier, he had already examined the room. It was extremely plain, but what furniture was in here appeared to be somewhat expensive. To his left sat a long white sofa, and just underneath him was a rather comfortable carpet. By the direction in which the light shined its rays, he was able to guess there was a window right behind him. It was a possible way of escape. That or the front door, but stairs didn’t seem as appealing to his legs than falling right now.

Morning came, and Hanzo was woken and greeted with a sharp kick to the ribs. He cast a glare in his attacker’s direction. This Gabriel guy was really pissing him off.

“Rise and shine, you’ve got a long day ahead of you.”

Hanzo only grunted in response, unable to do much more. Hopefully they’d give him some breakfast this morning, but he knew there was only a slight chance considering any prisoners held by his Clan weren’t fed until noon. He willed at least a drop of water, for his bout of nervousness yesterday had sapped all the moisture from his throat.

Of course, by the generous hospitality of his captors, he received absolutely nothing. In fact, after the two had finished their breakfast, his condition only grew worse. Jesse opted to relax on the couch while Gabriel brought a small stool to sit in front of Hanzo. He decided to give Hanzo a few mouthfuls of water. Not enough to satisfy his thirst, but enough to keep him talking clearly.

“Alright, Saroy--”

“Sora,” Hanzo corrected. Even he remembered the fake name. In that moment, he also realized it was quite satisfying to interrupt this man in the middle of his sentence.

Reyes gave him a warning glare. “Alright, _Sora_ , I’m going to ask you for some advice on the Shimada Clan’s layout, including literally everything. And every time you don’t answer something to my liking, expect something new to start hurting.”

“Of course. Anything else you need, your highness?” Hanzo rolled his eyes. Unfortunately his sarcastic comment only helped to reinforce Reyes’ threat. His heavy shoe made contact with the younger’s stomach, causing him to gasp in pain.

“So, if you don’t require any more demonstration, let’s begin.”

 

The next few hours seemed to drag on end. Hanzo’s natural stubbornness did him no good, and when the interrogation ended there were bruises all over his now sore body. Hanzo simply hung his head in defeat when Gabriel left. The man had also instructed his comrade to meet with him in an hour, giving Jesse some rare free time. Instead of spending it for his own amusement however, he decided to lend a helping hand to Hanzo.

He placed one half of a sandwich within range of him. Hanzo wearily swung his head to meet the food, graciously taking a small bite and chewing slowly.

“You weren’t ordered to do so, why are you feeding me?” Hanzo asked between a bite. Jesse gave a heavy sigh, eyes rolling towards the heavens, and sat down beside the bruised man.

“Hell, I ain't his lap dog! I can do what I want, he’s just my commander. But I s’pose the real reason to help you is because I was in the same situation as you once. Although I was in a much better… place? As in condition. The people weren’t too great, but my arms weren’t forced back like that,” He gestured to Hanzo’s uncomfortable position. “I also got a much more comfortable chair. Although trust me, you ain’t seen the worst of what Reyes can do yet.”

“Feel free to describe, I’ve had my fair share of troubles.”

 

The hour passed in a mostly one sided conversation, Hanzo not choosing to speak much. The man still didn’t trust either of his captors, but he was still thankful for the food and water from the younger. Jesse had even allowed him to clean his face with a damp rag with one of his own hands. Although at the same time the guy had also asked about the tattoo which coated his entire arm. Hanzo simply glared at him while Jesse shrugged to himself, at least he had tried.

Further on in the day, Hanzo learned what the two’s plans were. At evening they would be setting out to infiltrate the clan. In all honesty he was surprised at how quickly they were to prepare themselves for such a task.

Just before they left, Jesse brought up the dilemma of Hanzo.

Gabriel cast him a quick glance. “We’ll keep him just in case our mission fails, I don’t think I’ve gotten everything I want out of him anyway.”

With an unnoticeable sigh of relief, Hanzo slumped back. He wasn’t dying tonight at least. Although there was no promise for tomorrow. It was most obvious he would either get beat up or shot in the head, and it wasn’t his choice of which one would happen. Of course, with this in mind, he didn’t plan on staying in there custody for too long.

Hanzo patiently waited for an hour and half after the two had closed the door behind them. No sense in rushing himself and getting caught. But now seeing himself in the clear, Hanzo searched for a way to remove the pair of cuffs. If this table was nailed to the floor, there might be a loose nail somewhere, or perhaps a screw he could remove with his own nails. After searching the table leg which he was stationed at and creating a lot of noise, Hanzo managed to pry off a nail. His middle finger was now bleeding however, due to the effort he had to put into removing it from the floor and wood. Now for the even more tricky part. Finding the keyhole which kept the manacles from slipping off his wrists, he jammed the nail into the lock. It took a good couple of hours and a lot of manipulation, but now with bloody fingers, he managed to finally free himself of the metal rings. He rubbed his wrists, sore and red from the cuffs. Now for that zip tie. It took more of a hassle, but luckily the kitchen had been in the next room, allowing him to cut it off. Seeing as all his limbs bore red lines and his fingers were bleeding, Hanzo made his first destination the bathroom. After properly washing all the blood off his person, he took a quick bathroom break (the first one in over 24 hours) and searched for any sort of medical supplies. Luckily he found both the things he was looking for. Lifting his shirt to apply a cream to his various bruises, he also wrapped his bloody fingers with bandaids. He stole a set of clothing from his previous captors, finding them to fit him surprisingly well, and packed away his two day old, sweaty set inside his reclaimed backpack. Hanzo didn’t bother sifting through their personal stuff, his mind was too set on leaving this place. Finding his jacket and gloves, he slipped them back on and swung his still light and full backpack over his shoulder. About to unlatch the window and leave, he remembered having his wallet and gun confiscated. Maybe he could also borrow one of their own switchblades to compensate for the one he had left on the streets.

Now with everything he needed, Hanzo leapt out of the window. The landing was rough, and with his legs still not fully recovered, all the shock painfully climbed up his body. He awkwardly rose in the thin snow and began his midnight journey to the airport.

He had a long way to go.


End file.
